OneShots
by AiramS
Summary: A collection of Oneshots from the life of a goblin king and his bride from this world - not that he knows that :  Give it a try, it's cute and not too long
1. Chapter 1

**READ THE AUTHOR NOTE TO UNDERSTAND THIS STORY!**

**A/N: **He looks like Marak from my story with Cathleen – yes I know I shouldn't be using that look more than once, but I just love it okay? Her name is Maya – called Mai – and is from our world, even though he first find out about that much later ;)

He: Cat eyes, cat tale and glowing eyes.

Her: Elfish with dark golden hair and blue/grey/green eyes.

This story is made out in little chapters - **NOT IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER** - made out from words my friends gave me.

**Here are som info you might want:**

Maya is from our world and have always dreamed about magic and adventures, so when a man - playing with demonic magic, but she doesn't know that - offers her to be able to travel to another world she says yes after hours of persuation. And no, as the man made the deal with the demon, it doesn't have any consequences for her.

But in Maraks worlds she meets - big surprise! - Marak, who decides he wants her to be his bride, and she discovers she can't go back home, with the goblins magic holding her trapped. Too bad, huh?

But at least she doesn't have to feel bad because her family will be all worried. The man made her a substitute, who would take her place. It has her memories and stuff, but not her feelings, so it's not REALLY alive. It's just there to make sure nobody will start searching for her.

And lastly, then ni. It's not by accident she just HAPPENED to land in the goblins forest. The man/wizard sent her there on purpose, knowing what it would mean to her, but honestly? Why should he care about one little girls feelings? He does this, because the goblin kings extremely powerful magic. He wanted to persuave Maya into giving him her son, once she got pregnant, but as the goblins magic make it impossible for him to reach her, he can't even talk to her. That was a complete failure, huh?

Anyway, enjoy 3

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><p><strong>Pain<strong>

He never forgot the first time she cried out in his arms. Afterwards she had looked at him with eyes filled with more **pain** and shame that he had ever seen. Pain over everything she had lost. Pain at the thought of her new life.

Shame that she had broken down before his eyes.

So he said nothing, knowing that anything he said would just make it worse. Instead he just ran his fingers through her hair and rocked her gently forth and back until her eyes finally closed and she fell asleep. He knew he had to do this for his people. He knew it was a necessary evil.

But all of this meant nothing at the sight of that pain, and he felt shame himself.

For the first time ever, he felt like a monster to bring such pain to such innocence.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunflowers<strong>

He had never given much thought to flowers. They were just pretty, little things that the elves went crazy over. Ridiculous. But when he discovered her love for flowers they suddenly held a completely new interest for him. He brought her countless flowers to apologize for taking her, to comfort her in this land of stone and to make her smile. He loved her smile.

Later he learned that he got different reactions to the different kinds of flowers. Roses always made her a little sad. He never persuaded her into telling him why, and so he rarely chose them.

But **sunflowers** almost always made her happy and one specific time, when she was hit with homesickness, he filled their entire rooms with sunflowers. Just to make her smile.

He loved that smile. Especially when he was the cause of it.

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><p><strong>Drink<strong>

When he forced her to **drink** the magical potion that would take away her words during their wedding, she was too confused, too overwhelmed to fight. Instead she had just looked at him as if she wasn't quite sure if this was really happening. So she didn't fight when he took away her words, when she was prepared for her wedding or when she was led to him. It was first when he picked up the two knives she truly comprehended what was about to happen.

But by then it was far too late.

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><p><strong>Darkness<strong>

When you look at her, you'd think of light. A glowing, golden light with her tanned skin and her dark golden halo of hair. Sometimes, especially when she's happy, it seemed as she almost radiate light. He, on the other hand, is **darkness**. Seeing them together you couldn't help but marvel at their difference. With his bronze coloured skin and black hair, not to mention black tail and cat ears, no one would ever say he radiated light. Even his red, glowing eyes seemed more to suck the light in than to radiate it out.

But yet they seemed oddly harmonic. Like they balanced each other out. True, they were an almost contradicting couple with his animalistic look and her almost unearthly beauty, but somehow they still seemed to fit together. Maybe it was because of look in his eyes, whenever they fell on her. Maybe it was the way she smiled every time he touched her ever so slightly.

But somehow her light just seemed to fit perfect with his darkness.

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><p><strong>Stranger<strong>

The more he got to know her, the **stranger** she seemed.

It was often as simple things as how she sat. Sometimes she would sit with her legs up the backrest and her head dangling at the beginning of the seat. Otherwise she would sometimes sit with her knees over one armrest and her back rested up at the others. Half the times she wouldn't even be sitting in a chair, but instead on the table despite there being a chair under five feet away. When she became happier for him she would sit on one of his armrests with her legs rested on the other.

He surely wasn't about to complain.

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><p><strong>Joy<strong>

When she was forced to marry a monster she felt fear.

When she thought of her old life she felt grief.

When he told her it was for his people she felt anger.

When she looked at the lines in her hands she felt desperation.

When she looked at the Queens Charm wrapped around her arms she felt trapped.

But when he held her closer and murmured that he loved her, she felt **joy**.

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><p><strong>Heaven<strong>

Despite her fear for them it was clear, even to her, that the goblins adored her. They dressed like her, acted like her and brought her countless presents. She remembered one specific goblin, whose mother had been a very religious human. She had found her comfort in God, and hoping Maya could do the same, he had brought her a bible.

Later that day Marak found her reading it and when he asked her what she thought, she answered that it seemed as the most contradicting book she had ever read – but maybe that was just because she was an atheist. Confused he asked her what she meant, and when he finally understood he was far more shocked that she would ever have thought.

"You really don't believe in God? Any God at all?"

She had just shrugged. "Not really. I've always thought everything had a logical explanation." She cast a glance at her unusual husband. "Okay, maybe not everything, but I _do not_ believe in God."

"Then who do you think created you? What do you think will happen when you die?"

She had tried to explain the theory of evolution. How humans were nothing more but an evolution from apes. He had never heard anything as ridiculous, but figured she was allowed to believe what she chose – not matter how absurd it sounded. But the other question bothered him.

"Don't you believe in **Heaven**? Don't you believe in a life after death? Do you really think that when you die, there's just… nothing?" He had never even heard of anyone thinking like that and he found the thought depressing to say the least.

She considered it. She didn't use to, but then again. She didn't use to believe en magic either.

"Maybe not the traditional picture of Heaven, but I'll admit there might be more after this life has ended. Maybe. There's obviously more between heaven and earth than I first thought." She looked her husband over again. "I suppose it would be stubborn of me to say anything else, married to the goblin king."

He grinned at her. "I'll make you believe in life after death," he swore. "I will not let my wife goes through life thinking it's all pointless and without meaning.

He caught the sight of the hint of a smile on her lips. "And in return I'll make you believe in evolution," she promised. "Maybe later then we can discuss Big Bang."

"Big Bang?" he repeated.

"Later." The hint of a smile grew. "You're not quite ready for that one. Yet."

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><p><strong>Dress<strong>

Sometimes she found the formal dresses rather tiring. Okay, maybe she found them tiring rather often.

But they seemed to be expected of her. That is, by anyone beside Marak. While the goblins did everything they could to make her wear them, he let it be her decision what to wear. He even had pants and skirts made for her at her request. Without meaning to she couldn't help being slightly touched by his acceptance.

He never told her it was as much because he loved her in all of it. True, he thought she looked beautiful in a formal **dress**. But he also thought she looked cute in a pair of pants and an oversized shirt. Especially if it was _his_ oversized shirt. And when she wore a little skirt and a top he had a hard time focusing on anything but her. Though he had to ask her to stop dressing in that for court. There he needed to be able to think of something besides how she might look naked.

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><p><strong>Book<strong>

The first time he brought her to the library was the first time she smiled in his kingdom. It wasn't at him, but at this point it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she smiled.

"You like to read?" he had asked her. He already knew, of course. She read almost anything he had brought her back when she still refused to leave their rooms. But he wanted her to talk to him and more importantly he wanted her to talk to him about _her_. It seemed as she was almost scared to let him know anything about her past life.

"I love it," she admitted. "I'm kind of a nerd." She looked around in wonder. "I've never seen so many **books** in my life!"

He just smiled, knowing exactly how impressive the library was. Instead he wondered what in the heavens name a nerd was?

* * *

><p><strong>Ice<strong>

She had odd eating habits. There was no denying it and Marak surely didn't. Instead he teased her mercilessly with it. Who in their right mind put meat in pancakes, **ice** in their cocoa and whip cream on their strawberries?

She told him it was quite normal where she was from, but he was still amused. She did however talk him into trying it and as he found out as he loved most of it as well, he couldn't tease her quite as much anymore. Not that he stopped altogether. He just admitted they might not be that bad. Especially when he persuaded her into feeding him the whip cream covered strawberries with her mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Okay, I'm thinking about giving each One-shot its own chapter, but it might be. What do you think? These words were by the way chosen by my friend _Unknowenblack_, while the words in the last chapter were chosen by _SnowberryXOXO_.

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><p><strong>Love<strong>

He first truly realized it the first time he saw her paint. He couldn't see what she was painting, as she was looking in his direction, but it didn't really matter. All that mattered was her expression. The energy in her movements. It was clear she truly loved to create, just as she had said. Every facial feature expressed happiness and determination, and he had never seen such passion in such simple movements. Her eyes had shone at the sight of her creation, she had practically been glowing and he remembered her words. _I love to create. To know something wouldn't be there if it wasn't for me. To know I made that. I made it real. It gives life meaning. _

At first he wasn't quite sure what the little tug in is stomach was, but then he grinned softly as he realized it.

**Love**.

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><p><strong>Faith<strong>

She wasn't quite sure when she started to trust him. She surely didn't at their wedding or the months there followed, but as she one morning was waken up by his arm pulling her closer to his chest, she realized she no longer feared him. Thinking back she couldn't come up with exactly when her fear had been replaced by trust and her doubt had been replaced by **faith**. It had just happened, and as he mumbled incoherently into her hair she realized it didn't matter when or why.

It only mattered that it had.

* * *

><p><strong>Thirst<strong>

When she for the first time had woken up after their wedding she hadn't screamed at the sight of him as he had expected. She hadn't fought desperately or had begged to be released. She had just looked at him with those frightened eyes, as a prey would look at a predator. He wasn't quite sure what he preferred.

She still refused to talk to him, but just sat there, shaking, as she was scared he was going to attack her at any moment. So he had sat in a chair next to her bed and had talked abut everything and nothing. Anything there might calm her down a little. Make her realize he wasn't going to hurt her again. She hadn't reacted on anything he had said, but had just stared at him waiting for the attack. He had kept talking even though it seemed rather useless, reminding himself it was always hardest in the beginning, when she had licked her lips in **thirst**.

He had grinned and asked her if she wanted anything to eat or drink, wondering how long it had been since she last had so much as a glass of water. She still didn't answer him, but her stomach did for her and after another grin he went to get some food brought down.

Admitted, he was scared she wouldn't eat, but he didn't say anything. If she hadn't already thought about starving herself, he surely wouldn't _give_ her the idea.

She had picked at the food when it came, and seeing her mistrusting looks in his direction he guessed what was wrong. She feared he had put something in the food. Rather than declaring his innocence – she wouldn't believe him anyway – he had just started eating himself.

After a couple of torturing long minutes she had hesitantly started to eat. He still didn't say anything, but couldn't help a smile to emerge. True, she still hasn't talked to him, but surely it was a start.

* * *

><p><strong>Mission<strong>

Before her he had always seen marriage as a responsibility. An obligation. A **mission**. He was to find a human girl – or elf for that matter – marry her, make her happy, get her to love him and produce an heir. His people had always been the most important thing for him. He truly was a king, through and through.

He did find a girl and married her, but he had only thought about _her_ feelings. How he could make _her_ happy. How _she_ would fall in love with _him_. He had never thought about it the other way around.

But then that night came. That night where he came back to their chambers to find her curled up asleep in their bed with a book in her lap. He couldn't help but smile a little at the title. _The psychological Wonders Of the Human Mind._ She really did find the oddest book. He had lifted her up in her arms to tuck her under the duvet, but when he withdraw from her she had stubbornly held on to his arm, refusing in her sleep to let her go. She usually hugged a pillow the same way and he wondered if that's what she thought it was. Didn't really matter though. He couldn't go anywhere without waking her, but as she clang to his arm he couldn't find it in him to care.

He finally realized that while she was a hell of a long way from falling in love with him, he was already starting to fall for her.

* * *

><p><strong>Lamb<strong>

Her new life brought far more than a husband and a life in luxury. It also brought her the title of royalty and a whole new culture, which she slowly learned in her time. The goblins were more than hospitable and did whatever they could to help her, but for her there was far more for her to learn than even Marak could comprehend.

There was the different style in cloth, the different way of speaking – apparently _go to hell_ was far worse to say in this world than in her old – and even different food. Especially lamb they seemed to enjoy. A love she couldn't quite share with them. She ate it anyway, determined not to seem spoiled or unsatisfied, but Marak quickly saw through her façade. The next evening the table before her was filled with all her favorite. But no **lamb**.

Suddenly it was unfashionable to eat lamb and she wondered if she ever was going to get used to have such influence over other lives without even trying. She wasn't quite sure she liked it, despise how flattering it might be.

It was rather terrifying as well.

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><p><strong>Water<strong>

She was beautiful. There was no denying it. And if he had to be completely honest with himself then it was partly why he chose her. Small and delicate she looked as she wouldn't even be able to survive the ceremony, and he loved the contrast there sometimes showed between her personality and her look.

He loved the way nothing about her seemed to be able to decide on just one colour. Her skin could be tanned golden by the sun in the summer, but become elfishly white and delicate in the winter.

Her hair, some would say a dark blond, while others would swear on a light brown, had dozens of different colours in it locks. A dark golden colour, he loved to run his fingers through her hair, while he admired how the many different nuances somehow succeeded in making a complete.

Her eyes, which were what he loved most about her looks. One day blue as the **water** in the ocean, the next green as the forest he found her in, only to change to a foggy grey the next. The colours seemed to change after what she was wearing and what her mode was, and he loved to try to read her trough their colours.

* * *

><p><strong>Bold<strong>

She wasn't sure if she was ever going to get used to the goblins **bold** way of talking. Here there was no hiding anything, no pussy-footing around the bush or packing the meaning of your words in complicated sentences and flattering compliments. But when Marak told her he loved her, she knew a goblin would never lie about that like a human might would, and she found she didn't mind their boldness any longer.

* * *

><p><strong>Marak<strong>

_**Marak**_. She had pondered over the name after she found out it was what his many, many ancestors had been called as well. It seemed rather uninspiring to her. Not to mention confusing for the scholars. He had just laughed and explained that the goblin kings had two names. Marak, which meant lord, and a second name there told something about how he looked.

"For example is my name Marak Gloweye. We're being called our second name until our father dies."

She had frowned slightly while she comprehended this new information. Then she had shrugged and told him it still seemed dull to be named after your hundreds of ancestors. He had fell over laughing, saying _'that seems dull'_ maybe not was the right argument to break a hundreds years old tradition. She asked if he could find a better.

* * *

><p><strong>Shirt<strong>

He was almost constantly amused by her. Her reactions, her words, even her love for certain things. Like the way she thanked him politely when he bought her precious gems, but smiled dazzling when he brought her worthless flowers.

Or how she fell completely in love with one of his shirts.

He failed to see what was so special about it. It was just a plain, white **shirt**. But she seemed to absolute adore it and often wore it over fancy dresses covered in priceless jewels. But she never wore it outside their rooms. He never figured out what, and didn't bother to ask. Just like he didn't say anything when he found it suddenly hanging in her closet instead of his. He surely wasn't to complain. She looked too damn cute in it.

* * *

><p><strong>Spaceship<strong>

Sometimes it was immensely hard to hide her past from him. Often it was a thoughtless comment. It became even harder when she started to trust him more and didn't give as much thought about what she said as she used to. Like when he told her about the elves' love for the moon and she had answered that she wonder how they would feel if they ever got the chance of walking on the moon.

He had laughed and said that nobody would ever find that out. First in the last second she remembered that she couldn't tell him someone already _had_ and explain to him about **spaceships** and lack of gravity. Sometimes it was damn hard to be married to a man, who could detect lies. Especially when you had something to hide.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Again with words from my friend SnowberryXOXO. Hoping you all like this chapter. (Phew, three in one day. I really do spoil you.)

**Supernatural**

Sometimes it was very hard to be married to one of the two most powerful mages in the world. Especially in the beginning of their marriage, when she still was afraid of him. Back then his magic represented all the power he had over her. She was helpless against him.

Later she learned to appreciate her unusual husband. She had always loved magic, reading fantasy novels and dreaming about exciting adventures. He had reminded her of that love, which had been killed by the reality of her situation. He had shown her that magic wasn't cruel. Instead it could be compared to fire. Deathly in the wrong hands, but otherwise an important ally.

When she had admitted her yearning for magic he had once again wondered how many times she would shock him. The humans burned witches rarer and rarer these days, but it could still be dangerous to show interest for anything **supernatural**.

But he had been happy for something to give her, especially something he loved himself, so he had surrounded her with magic and had looked at her in joy as she stared at it in wonder. He let glowing flowers bloom out of nowhere, filled their bedroom with firework and made an illusion of a miniature dragon fly around the room.

Amazed she had looked at all the wonders in front of her – everything she had been told was impossible. Then she had looked up at him and for the first time ever she had sent him a genuine and dazzling smile filled with gratitude.

He immidiately decided he would fill her world with magic till the day he died.

* * *

><p><strong>Heart<strong>

She loved the sound of his **heart**. Secured in his embrace she could rest her head against his chest, while she listened to his heartbeat. In the beginning she would rather had died than admitted it, but the sound of his beating heart had always calmed her down. The slow heartbeat was just too relaxing to resist and later she didn't even care to try.

* * *

><p><strong>Bones<strong>

She looked so fragile, so innocent, that it almost came natural to try to protect her. Not only for him, but for his goblins as well. She, however, made it clear she wasn't interested in being pampered. She was used to handle herself and preferred it that way. He didn't resist, but he still treated her with care, and if she had to be completely honest, she didn't mind that much. It felt so… flattering, being treated like some sort of treasure. Other times the feminist came into her and she insisted that she was stronger than she looked.

He knew better than to say against her, but he still caught himself afraid to embrace her too hard in the fear of breaking her **bones**. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't help himself. He hated the thought of her suffering because of him.

It got easier later, but he still caught himself from time to time wishing he could wrap her up and protect her against all evil, but he knew such a protected life would only make her miserable. She hated the Queens Charm enough at it was.

So he swallowed her fear and hoped for the best. His relaxation wouldn't be worth her unhappiness.

* * *

><p><strong>Sun<strong>

She missed the **sun** more than she thought she would. She missed seeing the sunrise, she missed seeing it make it way over the sky and more than anything she missed the feeling of it on her skin.

Finding her one day on the roof, staring wistfully up at the lake, he guessed what she was thinking. Not knowing what he could possible say to make it easier for her, he just sat with her the entire night until she finally fell asleep and he could carry her to bed.

The next day he had cancelled court to be with her, not wanting to leave her alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Paper<strong>

She loved to write. Like when she was painting, writing gave her the ability to create. When she wrote she could make up entire worlds. Finding her one day sitting and writing absentminded in the ashes of the fireplace with her fingertips he just smiled at her. The next time she saw him, he handed her a book. He had brought her many books before, but as she opened this one she was met with page after page of empty **paper**.

When she looked confused at him, he had just smiled.

"For your writing," he had explained.

Amazed she had tried to thank him, but still couldn't quite bring herself to it. He had just smiled yet again. "I understand," he had said.

And seeing the look in his eyes, she knew he did.

* * *

><p><strong>Television<strong>

She missed **television**.

She missed sitting curled up in a chair watching all her favourite shows. Friends, How I Met Your Mother and even Simpsons.

She missed watching Sex and the City with her friends or watching the Saturday movie with her family.

She missed being able to disconnect the brain after a stressful day with meaningless TV.

She even wished she was able to present Marak to it. The thought of sitting curled up in his arms while watching some movie became more and more appealing to her as time went by. Though it would rather be something like Pirates of Caribbean than some romance. She'd never been crazy those. Too… sugared for her taste.

* * *

><p><strong>Cage<strong>

In the beginning it had been nothing but a **cage**. A golden cage, covered in precious jewels, but still a cage. She hated it. She felt like a bird, not only trapped, but restricted from flying as well.

So she cried, mourned over her restricted life with an ugly husband, who stubbornly tried getting her to view it as something else. But back then it meant nothing. It meant nothing what he bought her, what he did for her, or what comfort he whispered to her in the sleepless nights.

For he been the one to lock her away from the sky and therefor he was nothing but her captor.

* * *

><p><strong>Acid<strong>

In the beginning she had frozen anytime he touched her. She wouldn't fight him. She would just freeze while waiting for his next move.

Later, after the first time she had cried out in his arms, she had reacted on his touch as it was **acid**, jerking back every time he had brushed her hair out of her eyes or taken her hand. He never complained, no matter how tiring it was to have a wife he was not able to touch, but considered it progress.

At least it meant she no longer feared he would punish her for recoiling from his touch.

It was a beginning.

* * *

><p><strong>Floor<strong>

She was a dreamer. He often found her sitting on the balcony staring into space, or lying on the **floor** staring at the ceiling. Knowing she was somewhere he couldn't reach her, he let her be, knowing she'd come back sooner or later. He never asked her what she was dreaming about, thinking she would tell him if she wanted to, and she never told him how much she appreciated the space she was given.

People had never understood that her daydreams for her was something deeply personal. Something she wouldn't just share with them just because they asked.

Maybe it was because he never asked, she ended up telling him.

* * *

><p><strong>Desk<strong>

She grew to love her **desk**. He had given her her own office, which were far simpler than most of the goblins would have preferred. The desk itself was made from expensive wood, but had almost no decoration whatsoever and was turned against a huge window overlooking the valley. It was a perfect place to sit and write or draw depending on her mood, with its inspiriting view, lack of concentration stealing decorations and chair there was soft enough to be perfectly comfortable, but not so soft she felt she sank down in it.

She supposed it did have it upsides being married to a king, though she was hesitant to admit it even to herself.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Okay, yet another chapter. _Again_. Seriously. his is the _forth_ in one day!

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><p><strong>Candle<strong>

As time went by she learned more and more about Marak. She learned he had a deep sense of responsibility for his people. She learned that he was the type of person there just took things as they came. And she learned that he sometimes could be almost ridiculous lazy.

Like when he had lit a **candle** with his magic because he was too lazy to walk the three steps over to it to lit it like a normal peron. Or when he in the morning used his magic to pour up his coffee because he was too sleepy to do it by himself.

She probably would have teased him if it wasn't because she wasn't a morning person either.

* * *

><p><strong>Witches<strong>

When he had told her about the hunting for **witches** in the world above his underworld, she had for the first time ever wondered if she was actually better of being forced to marry a goblin.

She could only guess how they would react to someone as different as her. She was realistic enough to know that she stood out in this world with her strange sense a style, her not so pretty language and her yearning for anything overnatural. She had an uneasy feeling she wouldn't survive whatever reaction they might have.

* * *

><p><strong>Fairy<strong>

Marak still remembered one particular episode with a human merchant, who came to Hallow Hill once a year to sell his goods. He never learned most of his buyers were goblins. It was from him he had bought a lot of Mais books. True, they had countless books in the library, but because of their goblin nature they had almost none fictional books. Learning she loved them, he got some.

This time the merchant had bought several old paintings, created by several different unknown artists. He had firstly not been interested. He already had several paintings made by the greatest artists in the world, when one particular painting caught his interest.

It wasn't big, only about three times two feet, but despite it being dusty and slightly ruined, it was still beautiful if not a little too girly for his taste.

It pictured an imaginary garden, but what fascinated him was the little **fairy** under oe of the flowers, looking shyly down at the earth, but still gazing teasingly up at the viewer. She looked just like Maya with her fragile body, dark halo of golden hair and forest green eyes. Looking at them he couldn't help but think of his wife, who he still had never seen such as ease as the little fairy in the picture, who bore such a resemblance to her.

Not quite sure why, he bought it.

* * *

><p><strong>Cactus<strong>

Sometimes, when she was hit with homesickness, she sat and remembered how her old room used to look like.

She remembered the blanket her grandmother had made for her, her alarm clock with the Tiger from Kellogg's on top and the little **cactus** in her window sill – the only plant she was able to hold alive. She remembered her schoolbooks in her white and red bookshelf. She remembered her little figure of a dolphin and the silhouettes of exotic flowers painted on one of the walls.

Then she would push the thoughts away, knowing they would only bring back the feelings of loss and grief. Instead she left to find Marak. He was usually capable of getting her to think of something else.

* * *

><p><strong>Battery<strong>

She often compared this worlds' magic with her own worlds' technology. They used their magic to light up their kingdom, to heal the sick and even to keep to food cold. All things she was used to be acquired by technology.

Some things however couldn't compare. They had nothing like a computer, an IPod or even just a regular **battery** and she found herself longing for her old worlds' luxury. Sometimes magic just couldn't be compared to technology.

_But then again,_ she thought, as Marak showed her a new spell, which made her drawings come to life if only for a short time. _Sometimes technology couldn't quite be compared to magic either. _

* * *

><p><strong>Pot<strong>

Sometimes she couldn't help but compare her new life with Beauty & the Beast. Marak obviously held the role as the beast, but also the head maid, a goblin with almost completely pure dwarf blood, reminded her of Mrs. **Pot** from the Disney version. She even had a son, who could take the role as the little, cute teacup that she couldn't remember the name of. Chip? It didn't really matter.

Instead she laughed at her own foolishness. Her life down here was far from a fairytale, even though she had to admit Marak seemed as a far nicer guy than she would ever had imagined. But this was no romantic fable, and unlike the Beast, Marak would never let her go.

But despise these thoughts she couldn't help but remember how much she had loved the fairytale when she was younger. She also remembered her dissatisfaction when the beast had turned into the handsome prince. She had liked him far better as a beast.

When Marak asked her what was so amusing, curious of anything that could make her smile, she just shook her head.

"At least you're no Prince Charming. I suppose that's something," she answered him, before she left him wondering what by the world she had meant.

* * *

><p><strong>Closet<strong>

One of the obvious perks about her new life what her new **closet**. Far bigger than her old room – or the entire first floor of their apartment – it had anything she could possible desire and more. She had never cared much about fashion, but even she had to admit it was impressing. Gowns, skirt, pants, shirts, doublets and every other garment she could possible imagine in every colour she had every heard of and some she hadn't.

She had so much she was sure she was only going to use a fraction of it. Not to mention all the shoes and accessories. In her old life she had only had a pair of sneakers, a pair of high heels, a pair of wellies, a pair of winter boots and a pair of sandals. Five pair of shoes altogether. Here she had so many shoes she didn't even bother to count them.

But what was really impressive was her jewellery. She was sure no queen or princess in the world had anything there could even compare. She had emeralds of the size of chicken eggs, rubies the size of a tennis balls and sapphires the size of eyes. Sometimes the sight of them almost made her feel guilty over using them so rarely. The goblins clearly wished her to wear more jewellery, but she just preferred a flower in her hair or a simple hair band as a bracelet.

Marak seemed to know she preferred flowers over stones, even though she wasn't sure how he found out. She never told her. He just seemed to... know. She had tried not to be moved by his attention to all her little signs.

She had failed.

* * *

><p><strong>Music<strong>

He thought **music** useless. One of those silly little elf habits.

She loved it.

Learning this he brought her a piano and got her a teacher when she seemed genuinely interested in learning to play. This didn't impress her merely as much as his slightly forced interest in it. He surely didn't see the point with it, but he listened seriously to her when she tried to explain how you were able to express your feelings through the music and she even persuaded him to let her teach him a little.

In the end he admitted there might be more to music than he had thought, but still swore he would never admit it to an elf. She had just smiled, touched that he had thought enough of her opinions to listen to them and even let them alter his own. She had never experienced anyone given her words such a careful consideration and she couldn't help but feeling oddly flattered by his attention.

* * *

><p><strong>Ant<strong>

One day he walked into their bedroom to find her examining the golden snake around her arms. It wasn't the first time she did this, but it was the first time her facial features expressed interest rather than disgust or even hate.

Noticing he had entered she looked at him shyly. "Is it really able to do everything you've said it could?"

He smiled at her newfound interest for her enforced protector. "Goblins never lied," he answered her. "It can do anything I've said and more. Some wives have even talked with it."

"Really?" She didn't seem to wanting to follow their examples, and instead of pushing her, he just sat down next to her.

"Do you still hate it?"

She shrugged. "I hate what it represents," she murmured. "But I suppose I don't hate _it_. At least I don't mind snakes. If it had been a spider or even an **ant** we would have had an entirely different kind of problem."

"_An ant?_" he repeated. "Now, spiders I suppose I can understand, but _ants_? Why?"

She flushed slightly. "I fell down in a huge ant farm when I was four. I _hate_ ants."

He laughed softly. "I suppose that's one good thing about being down here."

She looked at him surprised, not really understanding.

"No animal can come down here, unless we bring them," he explained. "Not even ants."

"Really?" She thought it over. "What about mosquitoes?"

* * *

><p><strong>Toad<strong>

She had seen many different times of goblins. She had seen goblins that looked like dogs, cats, mice, **toads**, horses, panthers and countless other animals. She had even been presented to a goblin, who resembled an ostrich. Even after several month getting used to the goblins different look, it still took a lot from her not to stare at this particular goblins long neck or little, billed head.

But she first realized she had spent _way_ too much time in the kingdom when she caught herself thinking of _Marak_ as attractive.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, first of all, I DID NOT made the Hollow Kingdom... wish I did, though...**

**Enjoy the chapter... and yes, it's first now I've learned to put in that thing between the chapters. Yes, I'm retarded.**

* * *

><p><strong>Dragon<strong>

"Do **dragons** exist?"

He looked surprised at him, shocked at her question. "Dragons? Why do you ask?"

She flushed. "It's just… you have been telling me about goblins and elves… creatures I never would have imagined actually existed. And I was just wondering…"

"If dragons existed as well?"

She nodded, thinking she'd rather die than admitting she had always wanted a pet dragon. It was embarrassing enough to ask as it was, knowing how crazy people would think she was if she asked this back home.

But Marak didn't laugh. "They did once. But I think they're all extinct by now."

"But you only think? So there might still be dragons out there?"

He looked surprised at her eagerness. She looked as her biggest dream was to be captured by a dragon, something they in the all days had scared the young maidens with to make them stay inside. Just like they scared them with goblins now. But Mai only looked… hopeful at the thought. As it was an adventure to explore. He wondered if she one day might feel the same way about her life as a goblin bride. He smiled slightly.

He hoped so.

* * *

><p><strong>Schoolbag <strong>

"What's wrong?"

She looked up, consciously. "Why do you think anything is wrong?"

He sat down beside her on the bed. "Well for one thing then it's afternoon and you're still in bed. Besides, then I know that look. You're thinking about your old life."

She looked down on the silken blanket with a newfound interest. She had been thinking about home. It was Friday, and about the time school usually finished. Usually she would have been busy packing her **schoolbag** as quickly as possible, eager to get out so her end her friends could go down to the local burger bar stuffing themselves with deep fried food and milkshakes, laughing and complaining about school.

"It's just… I miss it." She confessed. She was not sure why she felt it was a confession. He already knew she missed home. Maybe it was because she felt weak saying it out loud. At least to him. If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't have to miss home.

"I know," he said gently. "But you won't feel better by staying in bed all day, thinking about it."

"You're saying I should just forget about it?" She felt the anger beginning to arise in her. She had never believed in _forgive and forget_. She had always thought it should be _forgive despise remembering_. How could he honestly expect her to let go of all the memories of her past life? All the happy memories of her family and friend.

"No," he said softly. "I'm saying you should remember, but live despise it. You can't let your old life hold you from living your new."

She hugged the blanket to her as she was about to drown and he looked at her with sad eyes. More than anything in that moment he wanted to be able to hold her and comfort her, but he knew she wouldn't let him.

"How?" she whispered, almost to low for him to hear.

"Come with me," he asked her. "I still haven't shown you the Waterfalls. They're quite beautiful. It feels like you're in an underworld kingdom."

"Like Atlantis," she murmured, considering it. She would rather sit in her own self-pity, but she knew he was right. It only made it worse, and she knew his kingdom truly was as beautiful as its habitants were ugly. He didn't overestimate.

"Okay," she sighed. "I suppose."

She pretended not to notice how he lit up. He confused her enough as it was, without her actually believing he truly wanted her to be happy.

Just too bad she already did.

* * *

><p><strong>Flower<strong>

"What's this?"

She looked up at the question, seeing one of her drawings in her hand. "A painting," she suggested.

He rolled his eyes at her. "I know that. I meant the **flower** you drew. What kind is it?"

"Why do you want to know?" she asked curiously. Despise the many flowers in their rooms she felt pretty sure they were for her. She hadn't thought he was the type who would care what the different flowers were called.

"You draw it a lot," he explained. "I got curious."

She shrugged. "I don't know what it's called. I think it's some type of lily. I just saw it on a painting once and liked it."

He seemed to consider it. "Is it your favourite?"

"Yes. Why?"

He didn't answer.

Almost a month later he brought her a flower. He often brought her flowers, but this was different. It was the exact same flower she had painted, down to the deep red colour.

"It's called an Asian Lily," he simply said. "They grow in China."

She just looked at him. Had he really sought for a flower, he didn't even know the _name_ of and brought it over from an entirely different _continent?_

His eyes gave her the answer. He had.

She reached out and tenderly caressed his cheek, not quite sure why she did it. She rarely showed affection for her husband and his surprised gaze told her he thought about the same. Flushing she looked away.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He didn't say her little gesture of affection would make him go willingly through the troubles a hundred times over.

* * *

><p><strong>Responsibility<strong>

She hated **responsibility**.

She had always hated it. She knew it was childish, even selfish, to avoid it like I did. But she had always just had too much of it.

After the first couple of years in school, suddenly everyone expected her to keep up her high standards and get even higher grades. Her parents, her teachers, even her friends expected her to be _the smart girl_.

When she got older, her parents expected her to be the good child, her teachers expected her to concentrate in school and her friends expected her to hang out with them, party in the weekend and date in order to get a boyfriend. Especially the last annoyed her. She _did_ date, but they always just seemed so… ordinary. Boring. Without caring about anything but partying, beers and sex. She had once asked a date who his favourite artist was, and he had looked at her as she was crazy. She had decided she wouldn't get a boyfriend before she actually fell in love, and as she still hasn't met a guy, who didn't bore her after two, three dates, she had begun to give up hope, thinking they hopefully got more mature later on in life.

Marak was quite different. He seemed to find her amusing and listened carefully to her opinions, but he could still discuss with her. Despise her defiance for admitting it, he never treated her like an object, but a person with her own thoughts and views – and a person he liked quite much.

She had been with him for several months before she even considered believing the last past.

But he never seemed to do anything she didn't want to do or to like him in return.

She wasn't sure why the thought gave her butterflies in her stomach and she carefully avoided considering why.

* * *

><p><strong>Cake<strong>

Her cooking abilities amused him. Half the times she made the most amazing food he had ever tasted. The most talented cooks in his kingdom couldn't make it better. Delicious **cakes**, addicting desserts and unknown dishes from all over the world.

The other half of the time, the result was catastrophic. Fires in the kitchens, exploding flour and food, which could make your sick for days.

Her food was never anything in between. Never medium good or average. He had no idea why and neither had she and when she complained, he merely threw his head back and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.

* * *

><p><strong>Alley<strong>

Sometimes she couldn't help but think of Maraks kingdom as almost ridiculous beautiful. Here was no dark **alleys**, no garbage on the street, no cold steel and colourless concrete as she was used to. Instead every little part of his kingdom seemed to have been carefully considered before built. Like every single room in his palace was supposed to be a masterpiece in itself, no matter if it was filled with gold and jewels or had a charming simplicity over it.

It was in many ways like a beautiful dream. Almost too beautiful, too magical to be real, but as she spent more and more time exploring every corner of the kingdom, she started to hope less and less to wake up.

* * *

><p><strong>Ocean<strong>

Having grown up at the **ocean**, she missed walking along the beach, diving in the waves or just simply lay there enjoying the gentle touches of the sun on her bare skin. She missed going down there doing a storm, watching the ocean in all its fury. She missed being able to listen to the soft sounds of the waves as they hit the beach and simply close her eyes and forget everything else.

She often spent time on her balcony, staring at the enormous lake above her, but it couldn't compare. It was eerily silent, she couldn't bath in it and it blocked the sun out from her, rather than reflecting its radiating rays.

Hearing Marak joining her, she gave him a short glace to acknowledge his presence, before she turned her eyes back to the water above.

Seeing the homesickness in her eyes, he forced a teasing remark back and sat next to her in silence. Feeling his fingers comforting touch on her bare arms, she closed her eyes and leant back against him, thinking that it no matter how gentle the touch of the sun had been, his touch could still be far gentler.

* * *

><p><strong>Lust<strong>

He first time she felt it was the day, where she tripped and he caught her. Holding her up against him, she couldn't help the furiously flush that was spreading and embarrassed she pushed herself away from him.

Then there was the day when she had looked up to say something to him and had found herself very close to him. Too close. Realizing she was staring at his lips she quickly excused herself and practically ran away.

There was also the time she had walked in on him, half-dressed. Sure, he had pants on, but somehow the sight of him shirtless made her flushed and awkward.

All these times she ignored her frantically beating heart, her strained breathing and even the voices from her subconscious, which was screaming at her for just _admitting_ it.

But clearly she had just been surprised at the time. Or time_s_. Yes, that was it. Because clearly she couldn't feel **lust** for a goblin king? Who had kidnapped her none the less. That would just be sick. Not that she had to worry. Because clearly she had just been surprised. That was all.

Surprised.

Her subconscious mockingly asked her exactly how long she would insist on fooling herself.

* * *

><p><strong>Sins<strong>

Sometimes she actually felt guilty about being happy. Sure, her family didn't know she was gone, but she still felt like she committed some sort of **sin** the first couple of times she caught herself laughing in his kingdom or giving him a fond smile.

Would they be ashamed that she had given in to her captor? That she hasn't fought harder, longer? She remembered how her mother had always taken care of her, when she was sick, or how her father insisted that no matter what she would always be his little girl.

No, she decided. They would never feel ashamed that she found herself liking Marak more and more as time went by. Sure they would be worried. Maybe even send her to a shrink, fearing Stockholm syndrome.

But they would still by far prefer her to be happy with him than miserable in her fight.

* * *

><p><strong>Zombie<strong>

She thought she looked like a **zombie** in the morning with her baggy eyes and unfocused gaze.

He thought she looked beautiful.

She called him crazy.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay, if there's any grammer mistakes it's because I'm Danish! We DO NOT talk english. don't know who the Danish are? We're the freaking vikings! The only people in the entire worlds, who believes going to a girls village, steal everything they got, burn down the houses and then kidnap her counts as a date!**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Death<strong>

In the beginning he sometimes couldn't help himself to wonder. She spent a lot of her time staring out in space and he sometimes caught himself desperately wishing to read her mind. What was she thinking at?

Did she think of her old life? Her family, her friends, all the dreams she had cried over?

Or did she think of him, the scary monster, who couldn't possible be anything but evil and malicious?

Or maybe – this was the thought, which scared him the most – maybe, she thought of **death**. Maybe she thought about how death itself would still be better than _this life_. Maybe she thought about murdering the scary monster, who had brought her this pain. Maybe she thought of suicide.

This thought gave him an unpleasant tug in his stomach. He wasn't quite sure what it was. Guilt, sadness, shame even. Care about her happiness. Sympathy.

Whatever it was he would do almost everything to make the feeling go away. One day, he swore. One day he wouldn't have to wonder.

One day she wouldn't long to get back to her old life.

One day she wouldn't fear him any longer.

One day he would make her happy to be alive.

One day.

* * *

><p><strong>Mind<strong>

He didn't mind it too much, when she used hours staring out into space.

He didn't mind it too much, when she in her sleep stole the duvet.

He didn't mind it too much, when she screamed and yelled at him for taking her.

He didn't mind it too much, when she glared at him in the morning, mad that he woke her up.

He _did_ **mind** it, when she cried.

* * *

><p><strong>Cancer<strong>

Her great-grandmother had died of **cancer**. Her grandfather had died of cancer. Her uncle had died of cancer. It ran in the family. Maybe that was why she one day woke up, gasping for air, trying to get her nightmare out of her head.

Awoken by her movements Marak had finally convinced her to tell him about it, declaring nightmares almost always seemed less real and scary, when they were said out loud.

Hearing the nightmare had been about her getting cancer, he had worriedly asked her what it was.

Hearing her description he had just smiled at her, relieved that it was something they knew and could cure, even though they had a different name for it.

"Silly, little human," he had said, his fond tone making up for his words. "Do you honestly think I would let my wife die of cancer?"

Though knowing he teased her, the promise made her feel oddly comfortable. With a grateful smile she went back to sleep, safely tucked up in his arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Energy<strong>

Sometimes she seemed as the laziest person to ever walk upon earth. Sleeping until after noon, to lazy to put on actual cloth and too lazy to do anything but hang around on their room.

Other times she seemed like she was **energy** itself in its purest form. Practically jumping out of bed, with half a dozen things to do in one day and practically dancing next to him instead of simply walking like a normal person.

These days he usually just let her do what she wanted, smiling at her eagerness and following her at his own pace.

* * *

><p><strong>Forest<strong>

"What do you miss?" he asked her one day. "About your old life?"

For a long time she was silence, and he sighed, realising she still wouldn't confess to him like that.

"The little things," her voice suddenly sounded.

He looked back at her, surprised, but glad that she had answered.

He gently brushed her hair away from her face, and she didn't fight him. "Like what?"

She shrugged, like it was no big deal, but carefully avoided his eyes. "Stepping out from the school to radiant sunshine. Walking with the dog in the **forest**. Gazing at the stars. Having my father coming in to my room without knocking – he never knocks – just to ask how my day had been or having mother demanding a hug, which I would pretend to be annoyed over even though I wasn't." She sighed. "I don't know why I did that. I can't even remember the last time I told any of them that I loved them."

"Does it matter?"

She forgot everything about avoiding his eyes and stared at him, shocked. "Of course it matters!" _How could he even think otherwise?_

He smiled disarmingly. "I just meant that I am sure they already knew. That I am sure your mother knew that you didn't really mind the hugs."

She seemed furious for a few more seconds, before she looked down, suddenly insecure.

"You really think so?" she asked timidly.

"Goblins never lie," he answered her gently.

She sent him a forced smile. "I know," she whispered. And then, a little after. "Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong>Tomatoes <strong>

He loved teasing her. He loved her quick counterparts, and he loved to make her blush.

One day she accused him for merely teasing her, because he loved to see her face change colour.

"I can assure you I do not. It as a _part_ of why I tease you, yes, but it is defiantly not the only reason. There's also your ability to almost always turn my own words against me and then there's that pout of yours that I've grown quite fond of."

"I still think you just enjoy seeing my face looking like a **tomato**," she murmured.

He smiled teasingly. "A tomato?" he repeated. "Well, now that you _mention_ it…"

He was cut short by her playful punch, but before she quickly turned away he was thrilled to see the blush on her cheeks.

He had succeeded, once again.

* * *

><p><strong>Damn<strong>

She swore. A lot, and he often teased her that she swore like a sailor.

"I do _not_," she protested, slightly childish.

"I suppose you're right," he teased her. "I'm sure some of those words of yours can not even be recognized by an actually sailor." He laughed deeply. "I swear I'll never forget to the day I die the first time you saw my kingdom and described it as 'Holy shit!'."

She flushed deeply, but decided to ignore his comment. He, on the other hand, seemed to have no intentions of letting it go.

"Hardly a… _politically correct_ description of my kingdom, which have taken the goblins race generations to create. But defiantly the most amusing."

"I don't swear _that_ often," she still protested. "**Damn** it, you should here my friends back home!"

He merely lifted an eyebrow, clearly still amused. "Didn't you just swear again?" he teased her.

"Oh, just shut up," she murmured deciding to leave, knowing there was no way she would ever win this argument.

After all, then she _did_ swear quite a lot.

* * *

><p><strong>Mammoth<strong>

She had quickly discovered the goblins could look almost like everything. Birds, insects, mammals, fish and even humans – the prettier of them, anyway. But a month and a half after her marriage she discovered they could also look like extinct creatures. Or at least she _thought_ that the second-in-command of Maraks army looked like a **mammoth**. But then again. Maybe he just looked like a very… special looking elephant.

* * *

><p><strong>Steak<strong>

"I thought elves were vegetarians," she had exclaimed when he told her about the elves diet. "Man, I had thought that was the one good thing about being human."

He looked confused at her. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Well, the myths about elves from where I'm from say that they can live for five thousands years, are amazing archers and vegetarians. The vegetarian part was the only bummer."

He laughed at her. "You would have been willing to exchange thousands of years for some meat."

She smiled jokingly at him. "Well, maybe for a really good **steak**…"

* * *

><p><strong>Letter<strong>

The first time he left, she couldn't help feeling somehow betrayed.

It was not normal for a goblin king to leave his kingdom for more than a day, but Marak thought it would be wises to get to learn the country around them and at the same time he used weeks travelling around the forest edges and beyond, creating protection for his kingdom and his people.

She understood it and even admired it, even though she didn't tell him, but she still felt betrayed. How could he just leave, while she was trapped? Sure, he wouldn't have gone, if she had asked him not to, and he had postponed the travel until she was somewhat content or at least not scared and then a little more just to be safe.

But she was still slightly hurt that he was able to see the moon, gaze at the stars and feel the gentle wind. She realized that really she was just jealous, but it didn't hinder her slight grudge.

Almost two weeks after he had left, two weeks she had spent mostly to herself, she received a **letter **from Marak.

To say it was long would be an understatement. He wrote about everything. Every little detail he could think of and even more. He ended the letter with saying that he missed her and that he was sorry he had to leave her behind.

It was first then she realised that Marak might also be at least slightly sorry that he couldn't take her with him.

Pulling herself together she wrote back that she supposed she missed _some parts_ of having him there – at least slightly.

When he received the letter he walked around with a silly grin on his face the rest of the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This chaper is dedicated to iguana-of-eyre, who gave me most of the words in this chapter. Thanks.**

**And if anyone else would give me some words - or anyone who already have - I am desperate for them, so please don't hesitate to send them! I swear, I'll praise you for forever on my hand and knees! You'll be my God! Or goddess. Or both.**

**Anyway, enjoy.**

**Ps. If anyone wonder about the one with the table, then yes. I LOVE food. I live for food. I'll die for food. Not that I can't control myself or anything. But give me a piece of Marabou and I'll forget all about the God, who gave me my words and salute you instead.**

* * *

><p><strong>Portrait<strong>

"Would you do something for me?" she asked him one day.

"Of course," he immediately answered, pleased she asked. She rarely asked him anything, as she was too proud. "What do you want?"

"A **portrait**."

"A portrait," he repeated, dumbfounded. Of all the things he expected, this was not one of them.

"A portrait," she repeated. "Of you."

For once speechless, he just stared at her. Why in the world would she want his portrait?

"If that is what you want," he finally agreed. "I'll have a portrait made."

"Thank you. Would you mind it being Maler, who paints it? He's the best."

"Sure," he said, still too surprised by her request to wonder about the meanings behind it as he left.

She just smiled at his retreating back, knowing Maler refused to use magic to his work. And knowing what the picture was for, he would use even more time than usual. Marak would have to stand model for hours! She snickered. Then he could learn not to force people into marriage.

She should really go make sure he got a really annoying pose.

* * *

><p><strong>Towel<strong>

She had never realised how liberating a shower could be. The first time she showered in his kingdom – at least the first time she showered _herself_ – she allowed all thoughts to disappear. Every homesick thought, every plan to escape. She just closed her eyes and allowed the water cascade down her body and drown out every sound.

After the shower she felt more refreshed and optimistic than she had felt ever since _he_ took her. Wrapping a **towel** around herself – and how the _hell_ did they get the towels so damn soft? – she cast a quick glance to the door, where she had stocked up everything she could find. She knew it probably wouldn't stop a powerful goblin king if he decided to enter, but hopefully it would buy her enough time to put some clothes on. She _did not_ trust that… thing and despise his assurances he would be somewhat of a gentleman she believed him about as much as if her school hating friend Camilla back home told her she actually _loved_ the school.

How stupid did he think she was, actually believe he was somewhat decent?

* * *

><p><strong>Clock<strong>

_Tick, Toc. _

She had used no less than twenty minute staring at a **clock**.

_Tick, Toc. _

It was made out of gold and decorated with little emeralds.

_Tick, Toc._

It had to have cost a fortune. She thought of back home.

_Tick, Toc._

Back home where she had worked every other weekend trying to save up.

_Tick, Toc._

Save up to an apartment.

_Tick, Toc._

Save up to a car.

_Tick, Toc._

Save up to a travel.

_Tick, Toc._

Always saving, always asking herself if she really _needed_ it.

_Tick, Toc._

She wondered exactly how much that clock had cost.

_Tick, Toc. _

"Hallo." She looked up at the sound to see Marak, who had just entered.

"Why _the hell_ did you have to be that damn _rich_?" she demanded, before marching out the room, leaving Marak stand dumbstruck, wondering what in the world _that_ had been about.

* * *

><p><strong>Ruby<strong>

His eyes were his most unusual trait.

In the beginning they made her think of vampires.

They frightened her.

She could hardly look into them without shivering in fear or hurriedly looking away.

Later she thought of **rubies**, but the stones were too cold, to emotionless to be even compared to his burning gaze.

Finally she decided they could only be compared to burning coals. Embers. A few times she even thought of a lava lamp. She discovered that no matter how frightening his eyes might look, she wasn't afraid of them any longer. She had never been good at reading people, but with him it seems like his eyes told anything. His anger, sadness, joy, lust, guilt.

No, they didn't scare her.

They comforted her.

* * *

><p><strong>Mirror<strong>

One morning he found her sitting in her bathroom staring in her **mirror**.

"Admiring yourself, are you?" he teased her.

She flushed slightly. "No, it's just…" She trailed of.

"Just what?" he asked curiously.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

Slightly taken back by her question, he hesitated. "You are undoubtedly the most beautiful human I've ever seen," he finally answered.

She forced herself to look in his eyes, which for ones were serious and not filled with mischief.

"Why are you asking?" he couldn't help himself to ask.

She flushed. "I… I've been told I'm beautiful before, but I've always just figured they wanted me in their bed. But… goblins never lie."

He stared at her incredulously. "You thought they lied. Are you honestly telling me you don't see it yourself?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I mean, I know I'm not ugly or anything, but I would hardly call me a beauty…"

"You have to be kidding," he murmured. "How can _anyone_ be _that_ blind?" He smiled teasingly. "I suppose its right what they say," he mused. "Beauty does come with at least a little bit stupidity." Then he quickly disappeared.

"Marak!" she yelled, annoyed, and followed him, her insecurity forgotten for now. "Stupid goblin king," she murmured irritated.

* * *

><p><strong>Hilarity<strong>

One of the first things she learned to like about her new husband was his easygoing nature. Almost everything was a joke to him. Mostly he laughed about her, but he could just as easily laugh at himself. He was not pompous or full of himself and she found herself inwardly laughing at his many **hilarities**.

Like when he was jokingly overdramatizing or when he simply laughed of her hard comments. Nothing seemed to get to him and he had an almost unnatural ability to make your forget all about your sorrows or argument with a few, teasing remarks.

* * *

><p><strong>Psychologically<strong>

_Stockholm syndrome. _Seen from a **psychologically** point of view she was merely slightly insane. She had had a fascination for psychology for years, but she had also always been afraid of self analyse. But then again? Was crazy really that awful? At least it meant she was as nobody else.

By then Marak entered, to her surprise covered in mud. He sent her a little smile, before starting to change his shirt. "Long story," he explained, before leaving.

A few seconds later he was back, pressing his lips against hers, before he softly kissed that tender spot on her neck. "I'll tell it later," he promised and leaved her.

No, she decided. Crazy wasn't that bad at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Table<strong>

She loved food. She would never become one of those fanatic wanna-be models, who starved themselves. She loved food, and chocolate and cake and…

Therefore it was only natural for her to love the new part of her life that included the breakfast **table**. Pancakes, fresh fruit, hot cocoa, tea, scones and everything else she cold possible desire. To be honest the delicious food was one of her favourite parts about being a queen. Not that she would ever admit to Marak that she thought some of the best about being a queen was the food.

She would never hear the end of it.

* * *

><p><strong>Pen<strong>

She love to write, but she couldn't defy it was very different than writing on a computer. Writing cramps and her hand simply being too slow to keep up with her thought was her key problems. One day, when she was suddenly hit by yet another case of writing cramps, she reacted by throwing her **pen** in to the wall. Looking up from his book Marak looked amused at her.

"Any special reason that particular pen deserved your fury?"

"I'm getting writing cramps," she complained. "And I write too slowly!" She knew she acted childish, but she didn't care. Marak would probably also just be amused by her antics.

He _did_ have an amused twinkle in his eyes as he went to fetch her pen for her. "Here," he murmured, before whispering something, causing the pen to glow golden for a few seconds.

"What did you do?" she asked curiously. She did love magic.

"Talk to it."

"You want me to talk to a _pen?_" she asked doubting.

"It will write whatever you tell it," he answered her, before smiling teasingly. "Unless you don't think your words can keep up either?"

Not answering, she went back to her writing, while he went back to his reading.

"Marak," she suddenly said after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Seeing her red cheeks he forced himself not to answer, but merely went back to his book. He couldn't, however, not wipe of that broad grin of his face.

* * *

><p><strong>Compassion<strong>

He felt with her.

In the beginning she would never believe him, but he did.

He felt **compassion**, shame, even pity. But he just couldn't let it out.

But none of that mattered if she didn't believe it.

She didn't.

She would.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: About the whole "adult not being able to treat teenager as thinking creatures" then, yes. I do speak from experience. Once - at a family dinner - I sat with a group of old people, where one of them was pretty much deaf. Anyway, we started to talk about moral in religion and suddenly he remembered that I was fifteen - or was i sixteen at the time? - and looked at me like I was crazy. He wanted to know if I felt like I couldn't talk with my parent about this and I just wanted to scream that some teenagers ARE capable of talking about something else but the newest fashion or what they had read on Facebook. God, how annoying. **

**Anyway, I don't own the Hollow Kingdom. Damn.**

* * *

><p><strong>Teenager<strong>

"Wait a second. So you goblins married _children?_"

Sure she had understood that goblin didn't found it necessary for a woman to agree to marry them, but _children_? That was just _sick_.

Marak just smiled. "We marry _seventeen_ years old elves, who _believe_ themselves to be children. We can't wait for them to believe themselves adult. They marry the very same night this happens. But of course we still wait for them to believe themselves adult, no matter how ridiculous it seems. We may marry them, but we do not sleep with them, touch them or even kiss them before they believe themselves adult."

"Oh." She supposed that she somehow could see that. "So they're children one night and adults the next. Weird."

"Don't humans have a certain age from where they are considered adults?"

"Well, I guess, but it's a little different where I'm from. It seems as you kind of skips being a **teenager**."

"Teenager?" he repeated, tasting the unknown word.

"Yeah. From thirteen to nineteen. It means that even though you might not be a child anymore, you're still not an adult. In Denmark we're allowed to have sex at the age of fifteen, drink at the age of sixteen, smoke at the age of eighteen and go to jail at the age of fifteen. Or fourteen. I'm not quite sure if they have changed that. But it's different in different countries. I believe you have to be seventeen to have sex in America and twenty-one to drink."

He seemed to consider it for a few moments. "How confusing," he finally noticed. "I like the goblins way much better."

She looked slightly insulted. "At least we don't marry people, who think themselves freaking children," she murmured. "And then use years politely waiting for them to believe they have grown up. _That's _confusing."

* * *

><p><strong>Consumption<strong>

Marak often noticed she shouldn't be so worried about her **consumption**. By the sword, she was a _queen! _ She could bath in goat milk and use gold as facial masks if that was what she wanted. She usually just flushed and murmured that would just be silly. Really it was only part of the reason.

She didn't want the goblins – or Marak for that case – to believe her to be spoiled and demanding. Besides she wasn't born to be a queen. She was the type who would rather use the library than buy books herself and who would rather loan dresses from her friends that go out to buy a new one she would only use that one time.

She had grown up in a world, which was falling apart because of their huge consumption. Global warming, animal extinctions and complete rainforest being cut down. Sure, she knew this world didn't have that problem, but it wasn't a reason to help the world getting it.

So when Marak teased her she merely shrugged and told him that he could bath in goat milk and use gold as facial masks if that was what _he_ wanted. _She_ didn't care about that sort of thing.

* * *

><p><strong>Encounter<strong>

In her first **encounter** with Marak it would be safe to say that she was scared. Who wouldn't be, suddenly being hunted by several monsters? Every logical thought disappeared as she did the only thing her body told her to. She ran.

She had never ran so fast in her entire life. She didn't even know she was able to. But her feet went as drumsticks and her breath was cut short in her throat. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was to get away.

But no matter how fast she was, they had horses. She could hear them coming closer, her heart drumming painfully in her chest. She had never been so scared in her entire life. She was too scared to think, too scared to try to understand. She just ran, trying to use the ways the horses would have the hardest with. Crawling under thorn-studded bushes she could here some of them curse and for the first time she believed that maybe, just maybe, she would be able to escape.

But then one of the monsters suddenly stepped out in front of her, only a few meters away. He was at least seven or eight feet tall and looked like a cross between a human and a bear. To say he looked scary would be an understatement, so she reacted by instinct. If you couldn't flee, you better attack.

So she kicked him.

Between the legs.

The big, strongly built monster fell down, moaning, obvious oblivious to anything but the burning pain between his legs. She could once again hear the horses behind her so she did the only thing she could think of. She ran _over_ the monster in front of her. Too focused on his pain, she wasn't even sure he noticed her stepping on him.

She ran again. Her lungs felt like they were about to explode and she was having problems breathing, but none of that mattered. She ran with the help of the adrenaline pumping though her veins, forcing her forward. She could see lights in the far distance and she ran towards them. Light meant humans in her adrenalin fogged brain. Humans meant safety. If she just reached the light then she was safe.

Then she ran directly into a solid chest and looking up she looked directly into a pair of red, glowing eyes.

"Hello," the monster said as if there was nothing unusual about their encounter. "You certainly are a feisty one, are you not?"

Then his - its? - arms encircled her waist, holding her to him, and she knew, despise struggling, that she was trapped.

Forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Reaching<strong>

The first thing running through her head when she got the offer was that it had to be a joke. And she couldn't see the point in it.

Sure, she knew Aleixandre. The odd Russian often came in the old bookshop where she worked and she had on several occasions helped him find a book he was searching for. It was most often about magic and old religion. Topics, which interested her as well, so it was far from rare that he stayed half an hour longer to discuss them with her. It was nice to talk with an adult, who didn't treat her like a child, who wasn't able to talk about anything but makeup, parties and boys. Really, she loved to discuss. Sometimes she discussed merely for her joy of discussing. Religion, moral, history, psychology and literature. It didn't matter as long as it had her interest.

Admitted, Aleixandre could be a little… intense from time to time, but she had known him for the three years she had worked there, so when he had called her and asked her to bring a book over, she hadn't been suspicious.

At his house she had found out that his interest for magic had been more than just an interest. He showed that it really existed. Magic. Everything she had ever wished for with her entire being, everything her soul had **reached** for her entire life, even though she knew it was impossible.

And now she found out it wasn't. There was no words that could possible describe how she felt in that moment. The excitement, the hopefulness, every dream about magic she had ever had rushing through her head. And it was all within her reach.

And then he had made his offer. She would travel to another world. A world filled with magic, adventure and things that in this world only existed in dreams. But then again…

Her family. Her friends. They would all be so worried. And what about school, her work, everything she had worked for. She couldn't just leave it all behind. Could she?

And then he had come with his solution. A copy of her, living her life. Nobody would even notice she was gone, and all her duties would be taken care of. She immediately jumped for it, hardly able to believe this was really happening, caught up in daydreams of pirates, witches and all kind of riches. And magic. The one thing she had always secretly wished for.

It was too good to be true.

Turned out it was.

* * *

><p><strong>Try<strong>

He **tried**; she had to give him that.

When she cried he did everything he could to consult her.

When she was feeling scared he did everything he could to make her laugh.

And when she was hit with homesickness he did everything he could to make her see the good part of her new world.

Yes, she had to admit. He tried.

* * *

><p><strong>Centre<strong>

He often found himself thinking of her when he should be concentrating on something else. In the beginning he fantasised about her actually taking a liking to him. He knew it was pointless to dream about it. It would be better if he actually did something to make it happen. But yet he couldn't help himself. He had never been a dreamer. If he wanted something to happen, he made it happen, but now he found his thought using hours **centring** on her.

He wondered how it would feel to kiss her, how she might one day wake up to smile at him, how it might feel to hear her say that she was happy here.

He sighed. What was he doing? Dreaming wouldn't do him any good.

Instead he left to find her.

Maybe she would smile if he showed her the Winter Hall.

* * *

><p><strong>Secret<strong>

She often suspected Marak knew she had a **secret**.

She supposed it was only to be expected. Marak was intelligent, and she did try to hide an entire world. But what would happen if she told him?

The worse scenario was that he saw it as a possibility. And knowing Marak that was a pretty big risk. Literally millions of women, right there for the picking. Who would think of searching for them in another world? She didn't want to risk them having to go through all those sorrows, fears and homesickness all because she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

The other risk it involved telling Marak was the wizard. She had learned what goblins thought of wizard and it would be safe to say they didn't like them. What would Marak think of her if he knew she had made a deal with a demon invoking wizard?

No, she couldn't tell him. No matter how tempting it sometimes seemed to just give after and get it over with. Who knew? Maybe Marak would leave her world alone. Maybe he wouldn't look at her with disappointment or even disgust.

But no, she couldn't take that risk.

So she kept her mouth shut.

* * *

><p><strong>Human<strong>

The first thought running through his head the first time he saw her was that she was without a doubt the most beautiful **human** he had ever seen. He had never wanted an elf. Sure they were beautiful, but they were also too emotional for his taste. But here was a human with the beauty of an elf, even though her beauty in many ways was far different.

The second thought was that he wanted her. He pictured to wake up next to that beauty every morning, he imagined teasing her and he wondered how her smile would look, when directed at him.

The third thought was that it would surely make the elf king jealous, which was a far more tempting thought that it should have been. The elf king had looked for a bride for years, but hadn't found a single woman, who was beautiful enough for the superficial elf. This girl certainly was. What would the elf king say if he found out there had been a beautiful girl in the forest and the goblin king had married her right in front of the elf king's nose? Whatever he would say, it surely wouldn't be pretty. Marak smiled at the thought.

The forth thing was to remind himself that he wouldn't just marry someone because she was beautiful. He wasn't an elf. He watched her fascinated as she looked up at the sky, before starting to walk again. He would lure her to him. In disguise of course. Otherwise she would just run away screaming her lungs off. If she turned out to be somewhat interesting and not just another mindless and docile little doll – the thought of marrying such a girl disgusted him – he would be married before the end of the night.

He smiled.

His counsellors would be pleased.

And moreover, so would he.

* * *

><p><strong>Spring<strong>

She hated that Maraks kingdom had no seasons.

She loved the summer. Feeling the soft touches of the sun, summer vacation, travelling. She loved the summer.

She loved the fall. The exhilarating feeling of air in the mornings. The winds and the red and golden colours of the leaves. She loved the fall.

She loved the winter. The snow, tobogganing and of course Christmas. She loved the winter.

She loved the **spring**. Especially May, where the flowers had bloomed and the nature around her was filled with colours and sunshine. She loved the spring.

"Well, of course you do," Marak teased her. "My little Mai loves May. That's only logic."

She flushed, once again. "I do not love it because of my name," she protested.

"Are you sure? Maybe you're just _really_ narcissistic," he wondered before leaving.

"Marak," she yelled, annoyed, following him. "I am _not_ a narcissist!"

And just like that she had forgotten all about her homesickness for seasons.

* * *

><p><strong>Monitor<strong>

She had always had a little stage fright. Feeling all those eyes on her. What if she screwed up? She hadn't even been able to hold a speech at her own confirmation. Therefore it was only logical that one of the worst parts of her new life was the many spying eyes of the goblins. She felt like she was being **monitored**. It was creepy to say the least. The only places she could be truly alone was in hers and Maraks rooms or in his workshop.

In the beginning it had been more than just annoying. Every time she left Marak it never took more than a few hours before she was seen by one of the many goblins, who immediately would inform Marak of her whereabouts.

Once she had in a fit of anger forgot her fear of him and screamed that he could not possible expect for her to feel his kingdom as anything else than a prison when he had thousands little spies to tell her captor about every step she took and every word that left her mouth.

And suddenly it seemed as every goblin in the kingdom did his or hers very best to not stare at her. She was not quite sure if it was an improvement to be stared at out of the eye hook instead.

But at least everything she did wasn't reported as if she was a fascinating new specimen to examine.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This chapter will be a little different. It will tell about Maia's capture and the chapters will actually be connected, so look at them as one big chapter!**

* * *

><p><strong>Spell<strong>

The **spell** had worked, that much was clear, as she found herself in a forest, which clearly showed it was fall. It had been spring, when she left. Only a mere month and a half away from her exams. Not that she had to worry about them now. She left out a little giggle, unable to help herself. Magic existed. Magic _actually_ existed!

"I'm in another world," she whispered, not completely believing. "I'm actually in another world filled with magic and adventures and no exams and school and pressure from teachers and parents and friends!" She let out another little giggle, wanting to dance around and scream of joy. She had never felt this free in her life.

* * *

><p><strong>Desired<strong>

She didn't know exactly how long the euphoric feeling lasted, but it stopped around the same time she suddenly felt like she was being watched. A chill went down her spine and for the first time she realised her situation. She was in a dark forest in the middle of the night and who knew what kind of monsters could lure in the dark, impossible to see? Not to mention it was rather cold. She was wearing more than she used to. Aleixandre had insisted she had changed into a dress, which looked like it belonged in the renaissance. True, it was beautiful in a simply way. It was a deep red, which Aleixandre had said complimented her skin. She was also wearing a black corset and Aleixandre had seemed strangely insistent that she should look beautiful. She had just figured he wanted her to make a good first-impression, but no one was here.

Knowing she was wrong would do little to comfort her. There _was_ someone there. A gracious creature watched her with its glowing, red eyes clearly showing the creature **desired** her.

No, knowing would have done very little to comfort her.

* * *

><p><strong>Base<strong>

To say she had a bad sense of direction would be an understatement. She could get lost in an elevator. At one point she actually had. So it was no surprise she felt like she was walking in circles. She had tried navigation **based** on the stars, but they seemed to be constant moving and realising she probably couldn't use them, like she would able to back home, she had to admit she had no idea what to do. She couldn't just give up however. She had only too many ideas of what could happen to her, if she fell asleep out here. None of her ideas were correct.

The dark figure with the glowing eyes smiled.

It was time to show her the path.

* * *

><p><strong>Wash<strong>

When she first saw the path she was overjoyed. It was the kind of path only humans made and that meant it would leave her to humans. How very wrong she was.

But as the path seemed to gone on forever, she started to fear that she after all still would have to sleep out here with the wild animals and only God knew what else. Maybe there were werewolves. Her stomach didn't seem to be able to decide whether that would be exiting or terrifying. It settled on terrifying.

Finally, just as she had begun imagine several werewolves eating her up, she saw light in the distant. Light meant humans. Light meant safety.

Coming closer she saw several dark figures around a middle-sized bonfire and she started to wish she had been able to **wash** herself before presenting herself to these strangers. She knew it was ridiculous in her situation, but suddenly she felt awful self-conscious. She was probably filled with dirt and who knew what else. She pushed the thought aside and stepped closer.

After all, what was the worse thing they could do to her?

* * *

><p><strong>Throughout<strong>

So far his plan had worked perfect. Ruining her attempts to use the starts and creating the path, which would lead her to him, he only had to sit and wait for his beautiful bride to walk directly into his arms. Well, maybe she would be his beautiful bride. Otherwise he could always use her as a bribe for the elf king. They always cared more about beauty than personality anyway.

Finally she was here. Watching her hesitating form about fifty feet away he made sure his eyes were completely hidden underneath his dark cloak.

"Hello," he called softly. "Are you lost?" Of course, he already knew she was, but it didn't matter. He hasn't directly lied or anything.

"Hi," she murmured shyly and stepped closer. "I'm afraid so. Not that that's a surprise."

_Hi, _he repeated silently for himself. Clearly it was some form for greeting, but not one he had heard before. He had gotten more out of her few words that most people would. He had learned that she was common born. She certainly didn't speak like a noble person. No nobles used contracted words. And she was not British. Her accent weren't like anything he had ever heard before, but if English was her second language she certainly had to have some degree of education. That would certainly be a plus.

**Throughout** his inner reflections the girl had stepped all the way up to them and he once again watched her closely. She surely was beautiful.

"Can we be at any assistant?" he asked politely. "Maybe I can give you a ride back home?" Not that he would take no for an answer, but it always amused him when the previously kings bride had actually voluntarily climbed up on her future husbands horse without any clue of what the future would bring.

Maia hesitated. There wasn't any 'back home' for her, unless he wanted to ride her through dimensions and into her own world. She seriously doubted that. But it was not what stopped her.

Her parent had always said she should never, never, _never_ get into a car with a stranger. She had a feeling the same rule applied to horses.

Trying to find a polite excuse she shyly asked him if they would mind if she stayed for a little while. She was cold and the fire was tempting to say the least.

"Not at all," the cloaked man said politely. "In fact, I will absolutely love to get you to know a little better." At these words half the flock around the fire started laughing as if it was some brilliant joke. It reminded her painfully of middle school, where she often had been laughed at as the weird bookworm. It all changed in high school though. She had no idea why.

"Yes," the man repeated. "I would love to get to know you."

Not knowing way she felt chills travelling down her spine.

Something inside her told her that she didn't want him to get to know her.

* * *

><p><strong>Come<strong>

"I am Marak," the man introduced himself politely. She could here the smile in his voice, even though she couldn't see anything of his face. She was tempted to try to spy under the hood or simply ask him to take it off, but maybe he had a very good reason to keep it on. Maybe he was a burn victim or something. Then she certainly didn't want to be the one, who made him feel even worse about himself.

Not that he looked like someone with low self-esteem. On the contrary he had a certain air of authority and confidence over him. She had a feeling you wouldn't want to **come** between him and something he wanted. And if you did, you would regret it dearly.

Now the only question was; what exactly did he want?

* * *

><p><strong>To<strong>

"I'm Mai," she said, suddenly remembering her manners. Just because he walked with self-confidence he didn't exactly need **to** be cruel or anything. He could be a really nice guy, like Jacob from her old class. He had been popular and nice at the same time as well.

"Well, Maya, but everyone just call me Mai."

The man, Marak, laughed softly at her incoherent speech. "Well, it certainly is a pleasure to meet you, Maya, called Mai," he said softly. Was he teasing her? "May I ask what a beauty like you is doing in the forest in the middle of the night?"

Was he _flirting_ with her? She decided to ignore his beauty-comment. It was the only dignified way to react. "I got lost," she said shortly. What should she say? I had a wizard sending me through dimension and I'm really an alien from another world. It would be fun to say, no doubt, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be very wise.

"Well, I already had guessed you were lost," he teased her. "But why were you in the forest to begin with, Mai?"

She hesitated, unsure what to say. She didn't want to lie, but she couldn't exactly tell him the truth either. "Maybe I just got _very_ lost," she suggested.

Even though she couldn't see it, she had a feeling the man stared at her. Then, suddenly, he started laughing.

"Well, I guess you have a sense of humour," he laughed softly. "That is one step closer."

She bit her bottom lip, nervously. "One step closer to what?"

She could feel his smile. "One step closer to us."

* * *

><p><strong>Interface<strong>

"_One step closer to us."_

That was creepy. There was no other word for it. Maybe she would be better of in the forest after all?

He knew she was scared. He could see the nervousness in her eyes. She certainly didn't seem stupid, but he had to be sure, no matter how tempting it was to just capture her and take her through the **interface** to his kingdom, which was hidden behind an illusion of a stonewall.

"You do not sound British?" he noticed, half curious and half wishing to calm her. It wouldn't do anything good for him if she suddenly attempted to escape. Not that he couldn't capture her. He just wouldn't be able to get answers to his many questions.

"I'm not," she said shortly. "You don't exactly sound British either."

"I'm not," he repeated in the exact same tone as her. Was he mocking her? She could feel him look curiously at her. "Is English your native?"

"No." She had never been good at conversation with strangers, but the man didn't seem to pick up on her uncomfortable mood. Or else he did notice it and just didn't care.

"In that case your English is very good. Where did you learn it?"

"In school." Seriously? Where else was she supposed to have learned it?

"So you are educated then?"

At first she didn't understand him, but then she suddenly understood. Just because school was mandatory where she was from, perhaps it wasn't even normal for regular people to go to school here. "I guess," she answered hesitantly. "I mean I don't have a doctor degree or anything, but I've went to school."

"For how long? What do you study? You do not sound like someone from the upper class." He seemed oddly pleased over her education as he shot these questions at her. Why would he care whether she had gone to school or not? And what did he mean, she didn't _sound_ like someone from the upper class?

"I was in a mandatory school from since I was six. It lasted ten years. Then I choose to study language. But I've not completed that yet."

"So you're educated." He defiantly was pleased. "Why language? Why not etiquette or something else a little more… feminine?"

Feminine? Maybe they cared a little more about the whole woman are different than men thing here? It certainly would explain her floor length dress. "I have an interest for other cultures," she explained. "And I'm not interested in etiquette or dance or something like that."

"You do not want to learn how to _capture_ a husband?" Once again half the people around the fire started laughing at some joke she didn't get. She wasn't used to not getting a joke.

"I'm really not interested in a husband," she said shortly. "If I fell in love, then great, but I won't marry someone just to be married. Then I'd rather be alone. And I certainly won't change who I am to capture a man's attention."

"How fascinating," Marak noticed. To say he sounded pleased would be an understatement. "So all in all you're beautiful, educated, somewhat funny, independent and have an interest for… other cultures. You certainly are a perfect choice." The people around them looked up at his words, as if they had waited for them all night.

Something told her they had. "Perfect choice for what."

He smiled and lowered his hood. "For my bride, my beautiful. For my bride."

* * *

><p><strong>Tight<strong>

She wanted to scream. She _needed_ to scream, but it was stuck in her throat. He was _not_ a human. He was a monster.

Petrified she was unable to do anything but stare at him. The first thing she noticed was his eyes. A glowing red, whish seemed to burn its way into eyes. The next thing was his ears and tail. They were defiantly not human. They were the ears and tail from a black cat. His hair was black as well with bronze coloured highlights in it. His skin was a faint bronze colour as well with darker marks on it. If she hadn't seen the rest of him, she would have thought they were tattoos. His nails were black, but they weren't nails. Not really. They were claws and her over activated imagination immediately started to wonder how easy for him it would be to kill her with those. He could shred her into little pieces and no one would ever know. Well, no one except the rest of the people around the fire, but she was sure they wouldn't lift a finger to help her.

How right they were.

Watching his bride's terrified face Marak looked with fascination as she turned a ghostly white and stared at him with terrified, blue eyes. He was pretty relieved she didn't scream. No only was it pretty undignified for the future queen, but it would also hurt his sensitive ears.

"Are you okay, my dear?" he asked her politely and sent her a little smile, which displayed his fangs. She shivered. "You look rather pale."

He was defiantly teasing her. He knew she had to be terrified and now he just played with her, but yet she wasn't able to feel any anger or irritation. All she felt was horror.

"Is she in shock?" One of the other figures asked, sounding slightly worried.

The monster, Marak, merely shrugged. "She will get out of it." He stepped closer and she willed herself to run, but her legs felt like cement. She wasn't even able to move as his fingers reached out and grazed her arms. Everything was spinning around her and little, black spots danced in front of her eyes. She willed herself not to pass out, not wanting to know what would happen to her, if she did.

She felt a pair of arms pulling her closer and suddenly the feeling tore her out of her state of shock. The monster held her tightly against him. Too **tight**.

Unable to think she reacted on instinct. She put her mouth to his neck, opened it and bit down as hard as she could.

* * *

><p><strong>Determining<strong>

She was rewarded with a gasp of pains and the arms around her loosened their grip. Not hesitating, she turned around, **determined** to get away.

His words echoed for her ears. _For my bride, for my bride, for my bride. _

She shivered at the thought and started to run faster. She had to get away. She had to escape.

Behind her she heard the sound of running horses.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If you wonder about Maraks language then he still talks "correctly" in this time of the story. It's only later, under Maya's influence that he begins to speak a little more modern English. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Okay, I know it's been like a gazillion years since I updated so a special thank you to everyone to sticked out!**

**I've been busy with exam - I read like freaking FIVE books. For one exam... damn I'm a nerd... **

**Anyway, after the exam I was spending a week with my grandmother without internet, so sorry I didn't pull myself together and updated before we left. I honestly didn't think about it. Sorry. **

**Anyway, here's the story. Still not mine. Wonder if I could find some way to go back in time and make it?**

**Enjoy! And please review. I live of reviews. They're my oxygen. **

* * *

><p><strong>Mathematics<strong>

She had always sucked at romance.

There was no denying it. Sure she had dated and flirted with guys at parties, but it always stopped there. Her dates had never been anything special and her flirts were lucky if they got to making out.

She never fell for anyone. Sure, she could think some guy was cute, but she never spent hours daydreaming about one guy and she never had the feeling of butterflies in her stomach, when she went for a date or flirted with some guy.

She could analyze a poem to perfection, calculate advanced **mathematic**, write stories that made the reader laugh and cry after her choice and create art so beautiful that her art teacher had tried to talk her into exhibit it.

But she couldn't bring herself to cry over some guy, she didn't know anything about seduction and she had a feeling she always said or did the wrong thing.

With Marak it was no different.

It would be nice to think that with him, she would always know the right thing to say or do. But that wasn't true. But unlike the other boys and men, Marak just laughed it off when she started rambling or starting talking about something she deep down knew wasn't considered sexy. She never got why so many boys had so big a problem with the thought of having a girlfriend with a brain. Marak only found it amusing if she started rambling about chemistry or theology. He never started to look at her as if she was crazy.

Later on she got comfortable enough with him to be able to flirt effortlessly and analyse what mood he was in. Sure she would sometimes still say something that probably shouldn't have been said at that specific time, but being raised among goblins, Marak was used to people just saying what they thought.

And the butterflies?

They came.

Funnily enough several months inside her marriage.

* * *

><p><strong>Traditional<strong>

She hadn't exactly had a **traditional** wedding.

She had dreamt about how her wedding should be – which girl hadn't? – even though she wasn't even sure she wanted to be married. With her father leaving her mother after twenty-four years and four children, she didn't want to risk the same happened to her. Not that she didn't love her father. He was an amazing dad, who clearly loved her more than anything. She just wasn't sure she would ever get the courage to be so vulnerable to anyone. Opening up meant risking to get hurt.

But she had still had a fantasy-wedding. It should be outdoor in Japan – she loved the nature and God it would drive her family crazy having to fly across the world or miss it. She would wear a simple, but beautiful dress and most importantly then she would love her groom dearly. He would be someone understanding, honest, funny and comforting.

It was safe to say she didn't get the wedding.

Instead of Japan, she got a cave deep underground with thousand of horrifying monsters screaming as she was cut with knives.

Instead of her white wedding dress, her dress had to be so short they were able to use the shackles around her ankles and so revealing that the Queens Charm wouldn't have problems gliding in _under_ her skin.

Instead of looking at her groom with love and happiness, she felt fear and anger at the sight of the terrifying monster in front of her. A monster, who hurt her, who took away everything she held dear and who did it all for the sake of all the other screaming monsters.

But she did get the most important thing. She got a husband, who clearly loved her, who she would never risk abandoning her, and who would never take advantage of her trust. Instead he would be ecstatic that she finally felt safe with him.

And she realized that she didn't have to have Japan, a beautiful dress or even love for her groom.

She just had to have love for her husband.

* * *

><p><strong>Subject<strong>

She had never been the type to crave for admirers.

She had always preferred friends. True friends. Not followers.

And now she found herself to have thousands of **subjects**, who all seemed to live merely to make her happy. They surely tried.

But she couldn't really appreciate their efforts and enjoy their attention.

Silently she sat among thousand of admiring stares, desperately craving a friend.

* * *

><p><strong>Roll<strong>

"Just one bite," he coaxed her.

"I'm not hungry," she whispered. It was true. Looking upon hundreds of deformed monsters, who all stared at you, would do that to your appetite.

"Just one bite?"

Having a feeling that if she gave in she would end up throwing up, she merely shook her head.

"Fine," he sighed, giving up. She looked up in surprise. He rarely gave up that easily and usually he would prove capable of persuading her.

He pushed his plate away with a huff, which could only be described at childish. "Then I'm not eating either."

Before she could even begin to ask him why he would even think his starvation would help anything, if not make her happy, the others goblins had seen what their king had done, and before she knew of it, they pushed away their plates as well.

With a huff much similar to his, she crossed her arms, having no intentions of eating.

That was until she caught sight of a young goblin boy. Despise his look – half wolf, half human – she would recognize the look in his eyes anywhere as he gazed longingly at the cupcake in front of him.

It was the precisely same look her youngest brother had when she told him he would have to wait to after dinner to get some sweets.

The precisely same look that always caused her to cave in.

With an exasperated sigh she reluctantly grabbed a **roll** of bread.

The little boy's exited and relieved face was worth Maraks triumphantly smirk.

At least that was what she told herself.

* * *

><p><strong>Dead<strong>

With a gasp Mai shot out of bed. She had had a nightmare. This in itself was not unusual. She constantly had nightmares, though they became rarer and rarer as time went by. But this nightmare was different than the others. This didn't involve the tons of earth above her crumbling and burying her alive. This didn't involve the disappearance of her copy, which would mean her family's agony. This didn't involve Marak, the frightening monster.

Well, it _did_ involve Marak, but unlike the other nightmares about him he didn't hurt her. He wasn't cruel or malicious. In fact he was trying to protect her.

In the nightmare she had sat silently, unable to move a muscle as Marak screamed of pain, before finally laying still.

She shivered at the thought of the nightmare. Marak hadn't come to bed yet. He was probably still working.

True enough, she found him in his office, writing. Finally truly realizing he wasn't dead she was left to wonder what the nightmare has been about.

Why would she think he would protect her?

Why would the thought of his death fill her with worry instead of happiness?

Finally looking up at the sound of her, Marak laid his pencil aside. "Nightmare?"

She hesitated. "Yeah." There really wasn't any reason admitting what it had been about.

He pushed his work aside and pulled her back into their bedroom. "You should go back to sleep," he said. "I'll make sure you won't get anymore nightmare."

Lying in bed again she grudgingly admitted that maybe, just maybe, she didn't want Marak dead or even suffering. Maybe she even wanted him to be happy. She just didn't want him to be happy with _her_.

* * *

><p><strong>Contact<strong>

Three days into their marriage Marak was at the edge of pulling his hair out in frustration. Three days of marriage and she hadn't said one damn word! Ever since she saw him the first time she had refused to answer his question or saying, well _anything_ to him.

By the third day Marak was willing to pay almost anything for any type of **contact** with his wife. Any type at all. He would even be relieved if she started screaming at him or even tried to kill him. It would still be better than just watching her either staring out in the distance with those eyes filled with desperation or pace around their apartment as a lion in a cage.

The only sign she even acknowledged his presence was the way she shivered every time he came near her and the way she constantly glanced in his direction as a prey would keep an eye on the presence of a predator.

It was the night between the third and forth night she finally caved in. Lying awake in their bed, he wondered what had woken him up before he realized that she wasn't there. He still hadn't fully comprehended that he was now married and he had more often that not woken up wondering why in the world a young human girl was lying in his bed.

Getting up not looking forward to a night searching for his wandering wife, he discovered pleasantly surprised that she was merely out on their balcony.

"Having trouble sleeping?" he asked her gently, trying to ignore her shudder as he neared her.

As usually she didn't answer him and he tried not to let this bother him as he looked at the view with her. He had seen it more time than he could count, but now he tried to see it from her point of view. He knew it was likely she had never seen anything as magically or beautiful in her life and hoped that she one day would appreciate it.

"Why?" She suddenly asked, pulling him out of his thought.

For several long seconds he didn't even try to comprehend what she had said, but was merely inwardly celebrating that his wife actually had talked to him. And it wasn't even an insult! Then his brain started to function once again.

"Why?" he repeated. Of all the things he had expected her to say – whereof most of them were either curses or pleading of letting her go – this was not one of them.

"Why are you doing this to me?" She whispered, barely holding back her tears. "Why hold me captive here? Why marry me? Why are you hurting me like this?"

Inwardly he cringed, wondering why she asked. He had explained it to her, of course. In fact he had told her several times, deeply hoping she would one day understand. Was she trying to make him feel guilty for taking her? In that case it worked exceptionally well.

"Why me?" she added, her tears now freely running down her cheeks. It itched in his hands to dry them away, but he knew she wouldn't allow it.

Now he understood his question. She wasn't asking him why he did what he did. She asked him how come _she_ ended up being the victim.

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. He wouldn't lie to her – couldn't lie to her – but he didn't want to make things worse.

With an uncomfortable feeling he realized he was most likely to. "Because I wanted you," he told her truthfully. "Because I found you beautiful. Because you were educated, but did not seem haughty. Because I hoped your fascination with other cultures would help you. Because I wanted to make the elf king jealous. Because I was selfish and it was you I had decided I wanted to marry."

He fell silent, waiting for her to break down, to yell at her, to try to kill him, to try to throw herself of the balcony. Thankfully that didn't happen.

Mai had finally realized that this in fact was happening. She _was_ married to a goblin, she _was_ going to give birth to his heir and she was _never_ going to see her family again. This wasn't a fairytale and there was no knight in shiny armour to rescue her.

She didn't think she could handle it. The pain was so powerful she almost didn't believe that it really was only emotional. It had to be physical somehow. It was if someone tried their very hardest to squash her heart with their bare hands. She looked down, half expecting to see blood pouring out of her chest.

There was nothing to see and as she stared down she couldn't feel the tears streaming down her face, couldn't hear her own sobbing. She didn't even notice when Marak pulled her into an tentative embrace.

All that existed was pain.

And now she had realized it was a pain she would live with forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Physiology<strong>

She had always loved literature, art and music.

She had always hated biology, physic and physical geography.

It didn't help she had always been awful at them in school. The interest simply wasn't there.

Therefore it was with deep surprised she discovered Marak thought her to be _smart_ when they began to discuss **physiology** or herbology.

It was first when she realized that her world had far more knowledge concerning these subjects than this new world that she realized than while she was considered average, if not mildly stupid when they came up in discussion back in her old classroom, she was here far more knowledgeable than most.

She tried to explain this to Marak, but it did nothing to remove his admiring gaze.

She tried her very hardest not to be flattered by it.

She failed.

* * *

><p><strong>Insistence<strong>

Even several months into their marriage she still had her bad days. The days where she wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and bath in self pity.

Or at least that was what she would have done, if Marak had allowed her.

Whenever he found her hiding under their covers in the middle of the day he would almost do anything to get her out of there. He would coax, demand and even beg for her to come with him and _do_ something.

And every time she would cave in to his **insistence** that it would be better if she came with him and every damn time he proved that he was right.

* * *

><p><strong>Nature<strong>

Walking among the silver trees in the winter garden she had to admit Maraks kingdom was the most beautiful place she had ever seen – and would ever see, she added annoyed.

True, it didn't have the wildness of the **nature**, but it had a beauty more magical and elegant than anything she would ever find above earth.

She just wished she could have had both.

* * *

><p><strong>Infinite<strong>

Never had infinity seemed so long as after she had realized she would spent the rest of it down here.

She would for all infinity live among the same monsters, who took her freedom.

She would for all infinity stay married to her ugly husband, whom she did not love.

She would for all infinity wake up in his arms, shuddering at the feeling.

She would for all infinity cry her heart out, but still have tears left.

She would for all infinity forcing herself to breath despise having no joy in life.

She would for all infinity force her heart to beat without anyone to love.

No, never had **infinity** seemed so long.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If I ever repeat anything, please let me now. By know I've written so much to this story I have trouble remembering what I've actually written and what are just ideas about what I wish to write.**

**I just seem to be unable to stop this story. I've fallen in love with it. Hard. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay I know it's been a while, and this time I don't really have any good explanation other than I started to write an actual story - as in my own - and... well, I was lazy, okay?**

**I still don't own the Hollow Kingdom universe or the elves or the goblins... sigh. **

**But this Marak is mine (Yeah!) though he's sadly enough is in love with Mai. Sigh, once again. **

**Let me know it you find any mistakes - grammar, spelling, so on - or if I ever repeats any scenes, which in that case I swear is by accident. My memory is lousy and I don't want to read the entire story EVERY time I upload a chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Furniture<strong>

As most goblin kings wives she spent her first night in the little chamber Marak had brought her to after the ceremony, which officially made her his wife.

Shaking with the effort of holding back the tears, she hardly notices the change of her surroundings. The room was sparsely decorated without much **furniture**. The room was dominated by the huge mattress in the middle, covered with colourful pillows. Besides that and the couch they were currently located on, the room was empty.

Trying her hardest not to pass out, she struggled to breath. She thought Marak tried to tell her something, but couldn't make out the words. All she could hear was her own wheezing breathing. Thankfully her body had gone in shock. Otherwise she would have noticed the monsters arms around her and heard his voice, whispering little lies into her ears.

It was first when he gently pushed a strand of hair out of her face she broke down. Crying into his chest, she had no energy to push him away and her struggling was weak the say the least. When she ran out of tears she slowly looked up at the monster, who had kidnapped her, forced her to marry him and now called her his bride. It finally became too much. Going limp in the monsters arms she let the dark consume her, not caring what the monster would do to her. She just needed to get away. Even if it was only with her mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Master<strong>

Maraks authority was unquestionable. She saw the way he gave out orders without a second thought, never stopping out to wonder if they would be followed through as most people would. It was inevitable that the goblins did as he told him. It didn't hurt that he – despise it clearly being orders – often asked them their opinions, thanked them afterwards and only gave out fair orders. He always took his goblins into consideration, but despite this he was clearly their **master**.

It was an entirely different matter with her. He never ordered her to do anything, but always asked her politely or tempted her into giving him what he wanted. Mostly it was going with him out and see his kingdom instead of lying in bed all day.

And he never treated her like a subject but as an equal. When all came to all he wasn't her master.

He was her husband and he treated her as such.

* * *

><p><strong>Windpipe<strong>

"What are you reading?"

Used to this particular question, she didn't even look up. "Medical Treat of Human Wives."

"Got bored with the psychology?" he teased her.

She just sent him an annoyed look and he decided today must be one of her bad days. It had been almost to weeks since she sent him that look. Like she wished he was everywhere but with her.

Trying to ignore her she let her fingertips dance over the page of the human lung system, thankful that this version of the book had been translated to English. She found it difficult enough as it was. "Lungs," she murmured, memorizing from the previous page, grazing them lightly with her fingertips. "Oesophagus. **Windpipe**."

"Do you like it?"

Closing her eyes, she slowly counted down from ten. She really didn't want to talk with him right now. Maybe it was because of the book. Some places it made the human wives sound like pets or farm animals. Like a cows of pigs.

Okay, it was probably because of the book. But Marak had actually read this thing. _Studied_ it. Considered it the right way to deal with his human wife. Like she was some sort of breeding animal. Which probably was exactly how he saw her. With an annoyed huff she slammed the book shut.

"So you don't like it?"

"Oh, go to hell!" she yelled, storming out of the room, throwing the book on the floor. She couldn't believe she had actually begun to _speak_ with him. He saw her as nothing else but something to pop out his little monster baby.

Back in their room, Marak carefully picked up the abused book. She didn't usually treat her books this way. Actually she seemed more likely to salute them. She really did love books.

But what he truly couldn't comprehend was why a book of medical treatment could make her this upset

Shouldn't she just be happy to see he was able to take care of her, even if she got sick?

"Humans," he murmured with a shake of his hand. "Hormone-controlled little things."

* * *

><p><strong>And<strong>

"What about Catharine Swan," his counsellors suggested, desperate to get the king married. "She's beautiful and well educated and noble born, so it won't be too big a transition for her and..."

"**And** manipulative and selfish and spoiled and arrogant and haughty and the most awful choice I could imagine. I'd rather marry the milkmaid." Marak said with finality, hoping someone would come along. Someone who would be the perfect choice. She wouldn't have to be as beautiful as Catherine with her slender figure, fair skin, chocolate coloured locks and unbelievable green eyes.

She just had to be sympathetic, somewhat educated and fun. Someone fascinating.

Someone like Mai, though he had no idea of it at the time.

* * *

><p><strong>Wipe<strong>

Discussing the dwarves newest request for new building projects, with his two chief counsellors, Marak had other thoughts than to wonder where his wife what.

Every thought of dwarves, however, disappeared completely from their head as the King's Wife entered, soaking wet and - still an unusual sight – smiling.

"Hi," she greeted them in a relaxed tone, passing through the room.

"Care for an explanation?" Marak asked with a humorous glint in his eyes.

"I played **Wipe** Out with some of the pages in the whole water world you have going on."

Not feeling any wiser, Marak just shrugged at his counsellors shocked expressions. "For my sake she can play in mud, if that's making her smile like that. And even in _my_ presence.

* * *

><p><strong>Thumping<strong>

"Go away," she murmured as someone was **thumping** on her door. Probably her mother. "Just five more hours." Her sound didn't stop.

Sitting up, intending to tell her mother to leave her alone, reality came crashing down on her. She wasn't home in her own bed and it wasn't her mother, trying to wake her up to go to school. She was married to a goblin king, who intended to keep her forever imprisoned.

Tearing the door open, she glared at the guard, who hurriedly looked away, a faint blush in his cheeks at the queen's outfit. Wearing a pair of long pyjama pants in a pale grey and an oversized shirt it wouldn't in any way be considered sexy. He just felt uncomfortable seeing his queen in such informal cloth.

"The king requests for you presence," he stammered, looking anywhere but at her.

"Then go back and tell him to fuck himself," she hissed, slamming the door shut in the poor guards face. Not knowing what 'fuck' meant, he was bright enough to figure it probably wasn't something nice and he far from looked forward to deliver this message to the king. But his queen had just given him an order, so he saw no choice but to go to the king and tell him that his wife had requested for him to 'fuck himself' whatever that meant.

* * *

><p><strong>Escape<strong>

Her attempts to **escape** always ended in complete and utterly failure. The doors wouldn't listen to her pleads and saw through any kind of disguise – despise her creativity when it came to these. She had no magic to help her use the water mirror and even if she did the Queens Charm would immediately stop her and fetch Marak. She did found several secrets passageways, but none that lead to the sun and her freedom.

Tempting her with promises of magic and indescribable beauty Marak convinced her to slow down at her search for a way out. Not that she stopped searching. She never would. But the search became less and less fanatical for each week that passed and more and more a search lead purely by her stubbornness and adventurousness.

And then the day came where she wondered what to do if she actually found a way out.

The day where she wondered if she wanted to use it.

* * *

><p><strong>Quarter<strong>

They say that how worse you feel, the slower time goes.

Never had time went as slow as her first night underground.

In some little part of her brain she noticed that the monster talked to her. She saw his lips moving and his burning gaze was directed at her, but she couldn't hear the words. She had gone in chock. She knew she should try to escape as the heroines in her books or at the very least let the monster know he hadn't broken her. But her brain seemed to be unable to think about anything but her family. Her friends. And caves. Dark, damp caves underground, where the sun never shone, and where she would be held captured by a horrible beast, who wanted her for an heir.

No, never had time went as slow.

After no more than a **quarter** an hour, she might as well have been there in days. Trembling she stared into the wall, desperately not trying to look at the monster, who stubbornly continued to talk to her. She knew that if she looked at his horrendous face one more time, she would break down. She would cry, she would scream and she would fight with all she had.

She didn't even dare to think how furious he'd be if she did. How he would punish her.

So in her entire first day in his kingdom, she didn't look at him once.

In reality Marak would have been ecstatic if she had started to cry or scream or fight. Anything would be better than this. He tried to remind him that it was always worse in the start, but usually at least they did _something_. Almost anything would be better than this. This look of desperation. This constant trembling. This silent cry.

No, never had time went as slow and she had no idea how she would ever come through the entire day. She had only been awake an hour and she was already feeling like she was loosing her mind.

No, she couldn't possible see how she could make it through a day, and even less how she could make it through a lifetime, but she didn't let herself dwell on that one.

So she only took one day at the time, one hour at the time and even one minute at the time.

Because if she thought of a lifetime, she would break.

* * *

><p><strong>Mobility<strong>

Concentrating solely on his kingly duties he – and his thoughts – stopped short, when he walked into his bedroom, finding his wife in a pretty compromising position.

"What are you doing?" he asked her softly, letting his eyes roam her form.

"It's called yoga. It's supposed to be relaxing."

"Relaxing," he repeated, as she changed position. It didn't look relaxing. Though he had to admit she had quite a…. **mobility**. Completely absorbed with her movements, he didn't hear her answer.

"Well, relaxing _afterwards_."

"Sorry, did you say something?"

She rolled her eyes, trying not to feel uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze. She repeated herself, not fully comprehending the look in her eyes. It wasn't like she was naked or anything. She probably just misunderstood.

Staring as his beautiful wife once again changed position, he decided he liked yoga. Very much.

* * *

><p><strong>Polymath<strong>

Marak had always wanted an educated bride. Someone he would actually be able to lead a conversation with. His counsellors had already suggested several women, but Marak had never been interested.

Sure Catharine Swan, the counts daughter, was beautiful, but she was also haughty, spoiled and selfish. Her little sister Emilia was also a pretty girl, though her beauty couldn't quite compare with that of her sister. But even though she wasn't manipulating and greedy as her sister, she had no other interests than the newest fashion and scandals. She was shortly told pretty dumb, never seeing anything, which wasn't related to her own little world.

Maya on the other hand seemed as her total opposite personality wise. She seemed interested in everything and had a fascination of quite a number of different subjects. Subjects, which often wasn't even related. Psychology, art, music, languages, literature, Greek mythology, cultures, architecture, symbolism and – surprisingly – mathematic.

"My little **polymath**," he teased her, fully aware that she hated to be called 'his'.

Right now, however, she was more interested in the other word. "Poly… polymath?" she repeated, tasting the unknown word. She couldn't recall it from any of her English lessons back in school.

"Polymath," he repeated, coming up to hug her from behind. "A person, whose knowledge is focused on several subject, unrelated to one another." He sounded like he was repeating the text from a well known textbook. He probably was.

Uncomfortable with his touch, she stepped out of his embrace, pretending not to hear his dramatised sigh of disappointment. "Oh, a Renaissance man. Like Da Vinci." She considered it. "Cool."

"Da Vinci?" he repeated. Having never existed in Maraks world, it was no surprise he had never heard of him.

"An artist. And inventor. He was kind of my role model. You know besides the digging up dead people part."

"Digging up dead people," Marak repeated, sneaking his arms around her once more. "And _that's_ your role model?!"

"I said _without_ that part. Otherwise he was pretty cool. I used his painting The Last Supper for my exam." Once again she stepped out of his embrace and decided now was a good place to esca… eh, leave. Not that she was scared of anything. And there was absolutely _none_ conflicting feeling regarding the feeling of his touch. No, she just had to leave. She had to do… eh, something.

Quickly she bolted out the door, as she felt Maraks fingertips softly grazing her arm.

Marak watch her run with a little smile. "I really should stop teasing her like that," he murmured, but smiled nevertheless, knowing full well that wasn't going to happen.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: You see that little bottum under here? The one that says review? Push it! Push it! PUSH IT!**

**... please?**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Okay, everybody this is an IMPORTANT author's note! I have two ideas I'm not sure if I should do so I'd like for your reviews to help me make a decision. **

**Should I allow Maya to somehow return to our (and her) world – followed by Marak of course so he'll figure out the truth? This will end with those two visiting our world at least sometimes. **

**Should I put these in chronological order once I'm finished and upload them? And if yes, how far should I take this story before I do so. Twenty chapters? More? Less?**

**Thanks for you time. NOW you can read the next chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Rest<strong>

Looking worriedly at his wife Marak felt concern swell up in him at the sight of the fatigued look in her eyes and the dark circles under them. By now it looked like they had been painted on. She had been with him for almost three weeks now and though she slept a lot (she far preferred sleeping troubled than being awake with him in his underground kingdom) she got very little **rest**. Her sleep was haunted by nightmares and even when he scared these away, her sleep was restless at the best and she rarely looked more rested after a night of sleep than before.

He did what he could to help her. He scared her nightmares away, tried to exhaust her through the day and let her cry herself to sleep, trying to console her at night. But he knew that the only thing that would truly make her feel better was time and there was nothing more he could do than he already was besides waiting.

Which was far from his favourite way of passing time.

* * *

><p><strong>Dollar<strong>

To say Marak was rich would be an understatement.

To say Marak was very rich would be an understatement.

To say that Marak was filthy rich would be an understatement.

No, Marak was so filthy, ridiculous, offensive rich that it was almost surreal. He was rich the way the old Emperors of China used to be rich with ceilings of gold and hundredths of palaces. Of course she had known from almost the beginning that Marak could be considered very wealthy, king and all.

But it was first when he first brought her to the royal treasury that she realized exactly what her husband meant, when he told her he would and could give her almost anything she asked for – except for her freedom.

Looking at the treasures before her she was stunned. This wasn't a little chamber filled with coins and the like. This was gold and silver, jewellery and precious stones, statues made of gold and the like and all other kind of riches she could imagine outstretched before her as long as her eyes could see. It reminded her of that movie she saw. Treasure Planet. It was ridiculous. There was no other word for it.

Looking at this ludicrous amount of riches she couldn't help but wonder how many kr., Euros, **dollars** or pounds this treasure would be equal to. Billions.

It was then she truly realized she had married a king. A king, who was so absurdly rich that it was clear that he could give her almost anything she wanted. If she wanted to she could actually pull a Scrooge McDuck and bath in it.

But all the money in the world couldn't buy back her freedom, the one thing she truly yearned for.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunburn<strong>

Seeing a young guard – not on duty – who had fallen asleep outside, not noticing when the sun rose, she discovered that **sunburn** for a human and for a goblin meant two very different things.

For a human it meant red and irritating skin, which hurt slightly when you touched it, and later would start peeling off. It was ugly and extremely annoying, but hardly something you could die of.

For goblins it was vastly different. Watching mutely as Marak healed the young goblin – Tefu, she later learned his name was – she couldn't help but feel sorry for him, goblin or not. His skin was far redder than anything she had ever seen on humans – even the time her father fell asleep in the sun without sunscreen. It was already peeling of in huge pieces and to her shock it wasn't jut the first layer as it was with humans. Layer after layer was being pilled of the poor goblin, until his skin was raw and red as his entire skin was one big, only half healed wound. He looked far more as if he had been burned severely than just being outside for a little while. It had only lasted a couple of minutes or so after the sun had arose, before the pain had woken him up and after that he could only have been outside for a little over ten minutes, before finding shelter and later being picked up by some guards.

The white in his – unusually human – eyes had turned red and little drops of blood were trickling down his cheeks. He was clearly in pain, though his composure impressed Mai. If it had been her, who looked or felt like that, she would have had a hard time not passing out.

She almost felt pain just looking at him and – to the surprise of not only the guard, but also Marak and the guard's two best friends, who was both present – she helped him as best as she could holding ice against his burning hot skin. Being busy with the guard Marak still sent her a little appreciating smile, happy she no longer seemed to hate goblins. Now it was just him she loathed.

Three weeks later Tefu still bragged that the Kings Wife _herself_ had helped him. Like so many other of the guards he did his very best to bring her back a flower of some sort.

* * *

><p><strong>Feasible<strong>

Lying in Maraks embrace, looking at his sleeping face, she couldn't help but think that nine years back, almost to the date, she would never had thought it would ever be **feasible** for her to love the monster, who had abducted her and forced her into marriage.

_But yet,_ she thought, snuggling closer. _I do._

* * *

><p><strong>Last<strong>

The **last** Goblin King's Wife had been vastly different than her. Intelligent and kind, she was far more proper than Mai. Most probably because of their different upbringing. The last King's Wife would never have dreamed of pulling on a pair of pants or ever showing her legs in public. She wasn't by any means a prude, but had been brought up by a noble family with high expectations for her.

Before she had been abducted by Marak's father she had been engaged to a young man, who as handsome as he was, also was conceited, arrogant and full of himself. It was not a marriage she had looked forward to, but within her culture the choice wasn't hers. True, she could technically break the engagement of, but that would also mean she would be disinherited by her parents, looked down upon by her siblings and she could easily end up having to spread her legs for a decent meal. It would be difficult to say the least to find a decent job, when looked down upon by her entire society.

Not that her fiancé was that bad. He never hit her or anything. He just was incapable of talking about anything but himself and his many achievements.

When she was abducted by Marak's father she hated him at first, before she slowly came to realize that not only was he a far better husband than her fiancé would ever have been, but she was also far more free in her captivity among the goblins than she had been up in her old society with the many expectations she as a noble woman was forced to meet. Here her prison just had a physical shape rather than a symbolic.

Her story was one of Maya's favourites as it showed Marak's mother's life with the goblins had been better than her life among the humans. She wished she had had a change to meet her before she had passed away.

"Do you think your mother would have liked me?" she asked Marak one day.

"Liked you? She would have been terrified of you! With all the swearing and stubbornness, not to mention your fashion style," he teased her. "But yes, she would have gotten past that and she would have loved you as her daughter-in-law and done everything she could to make you happy down here. Just as I am."

She chose to ignore the last comment.

* * *

><p><strong>Incompatible<strong>

She knew many humans would consider them **incompatible**. And she supposed it what true that when she was light, he was dark. She looked innocent, and he frightening. She was distant, a dreamer, an artist. He lived in the moment, was a realist and – technically – a politician.

_But after all_, she thought. _They do say opposites attracts._

* * *

><p><strong>Led<strong>

As he **led** her from the chamber, where the queen usually spent her first night, to the royal chambers, he wondered what she thought.

She walked silently a couple of meters behind him, hugging herself as if she was cold. She hadn't once looked at him, staring down at the floor as if she was refusing to see any kind of horror he lay before her. As if he wished to frighten her. But then again maybe it wasn't that bad a thing. They were still deep underground, and this part of his kingdom wasn't exactly the most beautiful. Here was nothing but empty stonewalls and cold stone floors. It must have looked like a hall to a prison cell. He wondered if perhaps he should defy tradition and try to make this place less frightening for the future King's Wives.

Looking at her frozen face he tried to imagine how she must feel. Frightened of course. Horrified by the monster before her. Terrified. Sad. Depressed. Miserable. He probably should say something, but no words came to mind. What could he possible say to her? What could possible help her in her terror? And even if he did found something she most likely wouldn't believe him. She would think he was tormenting her.

He sighed softly, missing the startled look she sent him, before she quickly looked down again. He reminded himself that it was always hardest in the beginning, but if he could just find _something_ to say? This wasn't like him. He never fumbled with words or felt nervous about something he wished to say. Then again, he had never married an unwillingly woman either. Or girl. He glanced curiously at her. How old was she? Sixteen? So very young to go through what she must think of as a living hell.

He sighed again and decided whatever he was to say it couldn't possible make the situation any worse.

"I know you must be frightened, but I promise you not to hurt you."

No reaction.

"You're my wife. I will do whatever I can to make your happy."

She didn't even look like she had heard him.

"This is your new home and my goblins are your subjects. They will do whatever you tell them, except, of course, to let you out."

She shivered slightly at the word 'home', but didn't otherwise seem to hear him.

He sighed again, having already guessed that she wouldn't believe him.

And the only thing that would change that was time.

Time and proof.

* * *

><p><strong>Devil<strong>

"Mai?"

She didn't look up. She never looked up any longer at the mention of her name. After all he was the only one, who ever called her that. The few other goblins she had met all called her the King's Wife. A name that words alone couldn't describe how much she hated.

They had only been married a little over a week and she had taken a liking to ignoring him whenever possible. She hadn't left her rooms since the first time he brought her here. She knew she should be looking for a way out, but she also knew he was watching her. No, she had decided. It would be better to wait. Just long enough so he would relax a little. Then she would escape.

Or at least attempt to.

_No!_ She reminded herself. _Don't think like that. Like you will never get out. If you think like that you'll break. _

So she waited. She waited in her luxurious rooms, never seeing the luxury surrounding her, as she impatiently waited for him to leave her alone so she could find a way out of this hell. She waited, surrounded by gold and precious gems she never noticed, while effectively ignoring her ugly husband.

Husband. The word gave her the creeps. He wasn't her husband, no matter what he said. He was a monster. A psychopath. If she had been religious she would have said he was the **devil** himself.

So she ignored him, when he softly called her name. She ignored him, when she heard his velvet voice promising her that he would never hurt her. And she ignored his many attempts to reach to her, trying to find something, anything, which would drag her out of her depression.

Because if she didn't ignore him, she would yell and scream and fight and she could only guess what horror he would make her go through, if she made him mad.

So she pretended she didn't hear his many attempts to make her leave her self-made prison.

She pretended she didn't hear his many little stories. Stories about anything and nothing there might help her relax, if only a little.

She pretended she didn't hear his soft breathing at night, when she attempted to fall asleep, trying to silently cry herself to sleep.

And she pretended she didn't hear his soothing words of comfort, when he despise her efforts still woke up and patiently waited until she had no more tears left in her and exhaustion demanded for her to rest.

* * *

><p><strong>Blue<strong>

Fourteen months after her wedding she had gotten used to the goblins special looks. Actually she hardly noticed them any more. But as she one day walked past a ten feet tall, **blue** man with a long black braid she still found herself stare at him, every thought in her focusing on one single word.

_Avatar_.

* * *

><p><strong>Meting<strong>

"You do know, you do not have to cook, do you not?" Marak asked her teasingly one day as he found her in the kitchen.

She gave him the usual blank stare. She might have started to come out of their bedroom and actually do something, but she was far from happy at the sight of him.

"Yes," she said shortly.

"Then why are you, little one?"

Little one. If only he would stop calling her that. "Because I _like_ to. Now, would you leave me alone? I'm busy."

"Busy?" Marak raised an eyebrow. "With what exactly."

"I'm **meting**," she said shortly, pouring flour into a giant bowl before her.

"And that is so awfully hard that you can not talk to me as well?"

"Yes."

He merely smiled. He knew she was lying of course. But he decided not to tell her. It probably wouldn't help if he accused her of lying, no matter how true it might be. "Can I taste it when you are done?"

"What?" She looked at him startled.

"Can I taste it? I _am_ your husband after all."

She furrowed her brows, not seeing how he could possible think that was an argument. "And a pretty lousy one of that," she murmured annoyed, finding the sugar.

He just smiled, relishing in the fact that she had – for the first time ever – agreed that she was his wife. With a sarcastic remark, admitted, but it surely was a step in the right direction.

"But I want to taste it," he smiled, going after her, once again ignoring her obvious signs that she wanted him to leave her alone.

"Forget it! There's no way in he…" suddenly she halted. Hesitating she gave him a cautious glance. "You really want to taste?"

"Yes, of course," he smiled. "You are my wife."

"What if you won't like it?"

"I will still enjoy the fact that I was permitted to eat it."

"Really? So you'll really eat it? Even if… even if I may not be so good? You'll still eat it?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "I can not promise I will enjoy it, but of course I wish to taste your food."

"Okay then."

"Okay?" he repeated, slowly. Of all the answers he had expected this was not one of them. He had expected swearing, refusals and maybe even a curse or two. He had not expected _agreement_.

"Okay," she repeated. "If you'll just leave me _alone!_"

Relaxing now that he understood her answer he – for once – willingly left, leaving her alone. Or as alone as you could be in a grand kitchen filled with goblins, who had all listened intently at the discussion between her and her '_husband dear'_.

With a little smile she turned back to her cake once again, wondering exactly how awful she could make it taste.

_After all,_ she thought grimly. _Goblins never break their promises._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That was it for now. Love it? Hate it? Wish to flush it down the toilet? Burn it? Salute it? Review it and let me know ;)**


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